The Promise of Tomorrow
by Achronos
Summary: This story chronicles Thane's adventure from the warm streets of Illium to the cold alleys of Omega; from the illuminating experience of his first kill to the painful realisation that his actions have more consequences than he could ever possibly imagine.
1. Act I: Chapter 1: Ruminations

**Disclaimer: **Socrates once said, "I know that I know nothing". In this case, it's** "**I know that I _own_ nothing". This work of fan fiction was made for the purposes of entertainment. All characters, settings and other materials (unless otherwise specified) used in this work belong to their creative owners: Bioware & EA. This is _not for profit_ and I do not intend to get anything out of it (besides world domination, of course).

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><p><strong>If you like this work, please subscribe andor leave a comment. Your opinions - positive or negative - are most welcome.**

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><p><strong>Full description:<strong> This story chronicles Thane's adventure from the warm streets of Illium to the cold alleys of Omega; from the illuminating experience of his first kill to the painful realisation that his actions have more consequences than he could ever possibly imagine. Through the judicious teachings of the Hanar, Thane is brought up to be the perfect instrument of death, while steering the galaxy away from the chaos that engulfs it. Despite his young age, the requirements of his service will plunge Thane into the middle of a dark war between the armies behind the walls, leaders without titles and men without honour. Will Thane be able to lead himself and his comrades unscathed through the turmoil of his own creation? Who will Thane have to face to emerge victorious? And will the dire consequences of this dark conflict ultimately cause Thane to question the true purpose of 'instruments' like him?

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><p><strong>\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
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**Act I: The Die Is Cast**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Ruminations<strong>

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><p>The man stood ahead of him; his back turned, his head cocked. Thane reached into the inside pockets of his suit and retrieved the weapon given to him by his superiors. <em>Would this be the right weapon for the job<em>, he thought, examining it. The greyish tinge of the otherwise green pistol matched the red lights protruding from the inserted thermal clip. Attached to the end of the barrel was a silencer. _It did not matter at this time_, his train of thought continued. Swiftly, he placed the weapon back into his pocket. Good things come to those who obey, who follow the rules – but not merely by some arbitrary rules enabling a sense of self-regulation and control; but the rules stemming from that undeniable idea – the idea that shapes, defines and binds you.

He would meditate on this later. For now this man, his target, this human, was his world. He knew nothing outside of it, and wanted to know nothing outside of it. To know your goal is to know you're content; to act on reaching that goal is to act for contentment. To be content is to be Whole.

The crowd surrounding Thane was thinning. Night was approaching, and it would be the opportunity to strike. The man would not even know he would be about to leave this universe until… _Until when_? Thane thought to himself once more. _Would it be right for the human to know he was about to depart, or would__ it be right to keep him ignorant of the fact?_

The Hanar never spoke of this. How to approach your target, the strategic weaknesses of various species, failsafe routines to be played when your assassination fails were all taught in measure and repeated consistently, but nothing on what the target should know when their end is near. _The Hanar would probably think it's irrelevant_, he digressed.

Sitting on a nearby bench, Thane continued to watch his target, who was looking down at something he was holding. The fact that his head was cocked would indicate several immediate possibilities: that he was partially deaf in one ear (likely), that this was just a particular tick that the man did when reading (unlikely), or that he was confused at what he was seeing and his head being cocked was an automatic response to seeing something unfamiliar (very unlikely, although a common trait in humans). _This man would not be easily confused_, Thane thought. This man was one of the largest death dealers in the system. He is smart, ruthless and, most importantly, adaptive. He can shape anything and anyone to his will, given the right leverage.

But Thane knew that this "leverage" was almost always violence. During the small amount of time Thane had been spying on him, gathering information and waiting for the time to strike, he had witnessed several of this man's attempts to rectify astray situations in which his suppliers were threatening to cut him off of weaponry. He would kill the messenger and send their head back as a warning. It was clear to Thane that this world would be much brighter without him, but it was unclear as to why he was chosen to take this weapons dealer out. He is a high-profile target, but not someone who would be expected to be the first contract of a mere twelve year old. Thane was at the top of his class, though. But would he be good enough?

_Of course I am_, Thane thought. The problem lied not in Thane's ability to kill (although, for all intents and purposes, this would be his first), but the movement of the crowd, their reaction, the security. The first thing that the Hanar taught him was to admit that there are variables outside of his control and that the only means of attempting to regulate them would be by eliminating them all together. Regulation is easy when you have nothing to regulate. _Eliminate the variables_, Thane realised.

First: the crowd. How would he do it? Even at night there would still be a crowd, witnesses. To eliminate the possibility of witnesses, you must ensure you are in an area that has none. _Fine_, he thought, _I will not end his life here_. A secluded place would do. A back alley? _But how to get him there?_ The man's apartment? _Bodyguards_. Thane thought on this for a moment. The back alley idea would be perfect if he could get him there. But this man was smart enough not to go down side streets or back alleys unaccompanied. His apartment is less convenient, but Thane knew that there is the certainty that his target spends most of his time there. But the bodyguards. _They're no match_, Thane thought.

Second: the crowd's reaction. It would be eliminated with the destination being the targets apartment.

Third: security. There are no cameras in the targets apartment. Thane knew that for certain. No visual footage can be captured. The only way he would be seen would be in person, by the bodyguards and the target himself. _They must all be eliminated_.

Thane paused on this last notion. _Must they all be eliminated?_ The Hanar had never exclusively taken a side with this topic. "It is all down to you and the circumstance," they had said. _Surely_, Thane wondered, _they need not all die_. _Yes, there are those who work for the enemy. Are they just as responsible?_ The word 'innocent' was never properly defined in Thane's lessons. It could have meant anyone other than the target. It could have meant anyone not wholly associated with the target. He would meditate on this later as well. For now, he had to go back to the variables.

Fourth: likelihood of physical evidence leading back to him or the Hanar. The only evidence would be the weapon with his DNA on it. He would make sure he disintegrates it at the earliest convenience.

Fifth and final: likelihood of target surviving. Impossible. One bullet through the spine. If done effectively will cause death. If not, hydrostatic shock. His target will be in too much pain to move, and will be effectively crippled. In that case, round through the head at a six percent decline, entering the occipital and temporal lobes of the brain. _Likelihood of survival_, he thought. _Imp__ossible._

Thane's target looked up. Placing his hands to his sides, Thane saw that what the man was holding was a datapad. He started to ponder what was on it, before his target began to make his way out of the courtyard – in a hurry. Thane wondered what would cause such a fast pace in his walking. The man got to the archway that served as the exit for the courtyard and into the main streets of Illium and turned around, examining the area. Thane knew his target couldn't see him, but was nonetheless intrigued as to why the man was watching to see if he was being followed. Exiting the place, Thane swiftly got up and walked to the archway. Taking a quick look around the corner before retracting, Thane saw that the man was now jogging down the street.

_Could he kn__ow I was after him?_ Thane thought to himself. _I have taken every precaution_. Thane took another glimpse but didn't withdraw his gaze. He would wait until there were signs of his target going to turn around before he would withdraw. The man continued to jog down the street, but didn't turn to look behind him. He was clearly certain no one was following him, or wasn't in the mood to care.

"Excuse me, sir," a soft female voice spoke to him, "what are you doing?"

Thane turned around. A human female in Trewhursch evening wear was glaring at him. She had seen him peeking around the corner. Thane stood silently.

"What are you doing?" the woman repeated, in a firmer tone.

Thane examined the woman closely. She didn't waste time in asking him what he was doing, so she must have been watching him before he got to the archway. Her narrowed eyes spoke of considerable suspicion. _She would not hesitate to call the authorities_, Thane assumed. But he had a failsafe. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a badge in a leather holding.

"Illium Security Service," Thane said. "Government business. I need you to go back to _your_ business," he pronounced.

The woman drew her breath back in shock. "I… I had no idea. I am so sorry. I just thought that you were just some drell stalking someone."

The badge was counterfeit but looked real. The Hanar had given it to him for the job to secure no ignorant civilian interference. Thane looked older for his age. All drell did. This made it significantly easier for Thane to pose as a guard – which he had done on numerous occasions since arriving on Illium. "That is fine, human," Thane replied. "As you were."

The woman bowed her head and began to walk away, back into the crowd. Thane watched her, making sure she was out of sight before turning around to look down the street. Thane's eyes widened at the scene lying before his eyes: his target was gone.

Thane felt his heart beating faster. He had not made one mistake since starting this assignment, but now he had made the worst one: he had lost the target.


	2. Act I: Ch 2: Supply & Demands

**Chapter 2: Supply & Demands**

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><p><em>This couldn't be happening. It was impossible. Of all the time for something to go wrong, why now?<em> The crowd surrounding him, oblivious to the situation now clearly and defiantly present before his eyes, were dispersing at a slow pace. People, walking so close to him, were yet so far from understanding the gravity of what was happening right under their noses. _People like me had steered Illium off the Omega path since it first became an independent world. __The security, the public transportation and Government funding all started because of me – and a few other men like me, who shared the prospect of a nation free to do what it pleases. But it would be these people who would condemn us, who would cast us out__ as dangerous and immoral. What do they know about morality?_

_Soon this crowd would be gone, though. Soon it would be just me and me alone. _How to rectify the mistake was the only train of thought travelling through his mind. First, he needed help. Second, he needed to call his guards. And third, most importantly, he needed to find out who was responsible for the screw-up, and make sure they too would know what it meant to fail Tiberius Stern.

He looked down at his datapad once more. Knowing for certain that the words printed on the screen wouldn't have changed in the brief two seconds he looked up, he did pray for some inalienable mistake to have caused the message to appear wrong and to have fixed itself.

But it didn't. The words he dreaded continued to resonate on the datapad, unchanged, and mocking him:

_Mister Stern,_

_We wish to inform you that your latest endeavour into the dealings of Omega's drug trafficking system were a complete failure. The incompetency of the transaction and, may I say, the absolute stupidity of trying to bribe a high-ranking official of Madam Farice's private guard has met with the assassination of your men on Omega, as well as a complete inquiry by the nearby Blue Suns of the Purgatory station, who were, by admission of Madam Farice herself, spying on her, thinking she was the main weapons dealer of the Blood Pack. You have now caught their eye, and they will soon be coming to Illium with no doubt about their intentions. They now know it was you._

_You have served us loyally with arms and other array of weapons in the 16 years we have been associated with you. We regret, with complete sincerity, that we will be – from this moment on – no longer associated with you or your dealings (for however long you remain to be alive)._

_Do not contact us again._

_##!^!%^#_

'Absolute stupidity' met Stern's eyes. _'Stupidity?'_ he thought to himself. Inquiries, questions, and investigations, were made beforehand. He was told this would be one of the smoothest and most financially lucrative ventures he would make. His advisors assured him of success. _What could have gone wrong?_

First things first: he needed help. Stern attached the datapad to his belt and began to exit the courtyard he was standing in. He was going for his evening walk when he got the message. This news entirely overshadowed the fact that, prior to him receiving the summary of his failed mission, he was beginning to get that eerie suspicion that he was not alone on this walk; that someone was following him. He didn't care about this now. He needed to make a call.

Stern reached for the module in his pocket but then stopped. _Too dangerous_, he thought. _What if it was already tapped by the Blue Suns?_ He couldn't risk it. He would make the call using a public phone. Those wouldn't be tapped, at least not yet. There was still time, he was sure of it.

He reached the archway that signalled the exit of the courtyard, and then turned around. He looked at the crowd slowly but surely dispersing. They were all wearing evening attire; no sign of armour or weapons among them – especially Blue Suns armour or weaponry. Stern turned the corner and began to jog down the street. The quicker he made this call the better. His advisors would know what to do next. He had to reach them.

Turning left into an alleyway, he knew that this was a quicker route to the nearest public phones. He would know of course. All the times his employees would call him from those phones (to inform him of success in contracts and other assignments), he had to know where the phones are so his hitmen could take out the employees so no one could ever trace their deeds to him. The best employees he kept though. The ones he knew wouldn't betray him or break under pressure. The ones he knew he could call on at the last moment if he ever needed them. Well, he needed them now.

Taking a right into the avenue, he was taken aback by all the civilians walking down the street. Surely for this time of the evening there would be at least half of what there is now. _Why so many_? Stern thought. Then he remembered. Aynhitov Sharab was playing at the theatre tonight. His wife had pleaded him to take her, and he finally gave in. She would be waiting at home right now for him to take her. It began in a few hours. But now there were much more serious workings that needed to be done and required his time, _rather than some soppy opera singer._

Walking for a few more minutes down the crowded avenue, occasionally passing an advertisement for Sharab or the six-thirty news bulletin, Stern reached the small block of public phones that stood against the wall of the Serrice Technology Headquarters building. There was a Salarian making a call on the end, talking extremely fast, but also remarkably cautiously. He was standing in the manner of someone who knew he had important news, but didn't know what to do next. This reminded Stern of his current situation. He walked past the Salarian and over to the other end, so the Salarian couldn't hear him.

Stern picked up the receiver and placed three credits in the payment slot. Dialling the number of his top advisor, Stern stood, waiting for the opposite end to pick up. He knew he was the man to call, and he would know what to do next. He always knew what to do, and, after a whole minute of waiting, he heard the click of the receiver and a voice answered.

"Hello?" croaked the voice of Sherman Vale. Stern noticed that he seemed panicked.

"It's Stern," he replied, coldly, "have you heard?"

"Uh… yes, sir. We, uh, we were just-" Vale began.

"Listen carefully," Stern interrupted. "If you have heard about the screw-up then you know the Blue Suns are after us now."

"Yes, sir. We were just-".

"And usually this wouldn't be the case. But because of your stupid mistake to supply the Blood Pack with weapons that they used on the Blue Suns, killing god knows how many, they want blood!"

Stern tried to keep his voice soft so no one would hear him. This was harder than he thought. He could feel the rage building up inside him, as every syllable he spoke issued a new meaning and a new possibility that this phone call might be the last he ever made; this one phone call carried all the significance of every act he had ever done put together.

"Yes, sir," Vale replied in the same panicked voice, obviously aware of the situation and its importance. "We understand. It's just… well… we were just-".

"All of you are going to meet me at the corner of Academy Drive and Biddulph Place in the Outskirts in twenty minutes! Do you understand?"

"But, sir, we were-"

Vale didn't have time to respond before Stern slammed the phone back down. He needed answers, and he needed them now. If there was any way to save his skin from the Blue Suns, he would take it. And his advisors would know how to get it. If they didn't, then he knew he wasn't going down alone.


	3. Act I: Ch 3: A Scent of the Untamed

**Chapter 3: A Scent of the Untamed**

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><p>"I didn't get the tickets. I couldn't… it was all sold out before I even got to the ticket station. I'm so sorry… We've been through this, honey… Yes, I know Helena got tickets from her husband… Yes, I know… But, honey, it's Aynhitov Sharab… Do you know how hard it is to even get tickets to one of her next five shows? … Honey, I am so sorry, but we have been through this, we just… hello? Cecily, are you there? … Cecily?"<p>

The weary old man put the receiver back and sat down on the bench next to Thane. Not trying to pay attention to the conversation, Thane nonetheless heard all of it. He couldn't help but sympathise for the man. The man looked older for his age, which Thane could tell was around 60, from the man's posture and strength of his voice. He looked nearly 70 though. The dramatic aging probably came from the stresses of life. He looked like a man who had gone through his life the hard way. But he also looked like the man who would not take the easy way and preferred to do his work honestly. The hard look on his face belied the softness of his nature which was slowly revealed through the conversation on the phone. He wanted to please his wife with tickets to the Sharab show. _But did he want to please his wife because it would, in turn, pl__ease him? _Thane thought. _Or did he want to please his wife because he felt obligated to? Does marriage do that to a person? Turn the idea of being happy by pleasing yourself into being strained by pleasing others? Or was that just humans?_

Thane didn't want to get married. Being only twelve it was hardly the time for him to even contemplate marriage – let alone rejecting the idea. The topic of relationships was brought up in lesson a few years ago. Another student had asked about the idea of being trained and having romantic relationships. The Hanar didn't forbid it, but they expressly advised them to do otherwise. They had said relationships only complicate matters. But Thane had long since promised himself that he wouldn't marry.

The old man bowed his head in regret. Thane turned to him.

"Are you alright, sir?" he asked kindly.

"Oh, I have been better, son. Been better," the old man replied. "That Aynhitov Sharab, ey? Seems like everyone in town managed to get a ticket but me."

"I didn't get one," Thane responded coldly.

The old man chuckled. "I guess so. But a young man of your age wouldn't be interested in opera anyway."

Thane turned and looked at the towering theatre in the distance in which Aynhitov Sharab would be playing. The Ishmotico Theatre, a towering structure that had been the centre for the arts in Illium for almost 400 years, looked even more beautiful in the twilight than it did during the day, which Thane reckoned was a hard thing to beat. The absolute beauty of the theatre, its scope and precision architectural design, made it the unofficial central theatre in the system. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," Thane replied.

The man turned to him in amusement. "Aynhitov Sharab wouldn't interest you, would she?"

Thane continued to look – transfixed – at the theatre. "Aynhitov Sharab began her career as a maid, right here on Illium," Thane spoke. "She was born on Omega, but her parents bought her a ticket off it to get her away from the crime and drugs that Omega attracted. She often sang to herself while cleaning until-".

"Until one of her bosses noticed this and then introduced her to a talent agent," the old man interrupted, impressed. "Yes, very good."

"Her first aria was 'A Scent of the Untamed'. It became a galaxy-wide hit and topped the chart in two days of its release," Thane continued.

"Very good! You know your stuff," the old man exclaimed. "How old are you?"

"Twelve," replied Thane, in the same detached tone.

"Well, you are certainly the most opera-knowing drell I know," the man admitted, before suddenly frowning slightly, in the manner of remembering something. "Actually, you are the only drell I know," he confessed.

"You don't know me," Thane replied, not in an offensive way, but as a matter-of-fact way.

"Indeed," the old man responded, chuckling again slightly. "What are you doing here, by the way? Are you lost?"

About to speak, Thane paused for a moment, contemplating what to say. "In a way," he answered, bleakly.

The old man knew that this was a touchy issue straight away, as Thane's voice had changed from its cold, detached tone to a rather betrayed and protective one. The man leaned back on the wall against the bench. He looked at Thane, who was leaning forward and now staring at the crowd making its way through this bustling night-time street. The old man noticed that this drell had the kind of look on its face that indicated that he needed to be somewhere, but nowhere to go.

The man began to follow the movements of a young Asari woman in the crowd. She had dropped her bag, and a few people around her had stopped to help her pick up her things. Seeing this, the man tapped Thane on the shoulder and indicated this.

"You see that, son?" the old man said, pointing at the scene.

Thane turned his head slightly to focus on the little ruckus.

"Why would those people help her?" the old man asked.

Thane didn't know what he was getting at. _What a pointless question_, Thane thought to himself.

"They don't know that woman," the man continued, "yet they would gladly stop from their seemingly busy schedule of probably trying to get to the theatre – or wherever they have to go – and help the girl pick up her things. They most likely know they won't get anything out of it, money or whatnot. But they do it anyway."

_What does this have to do with anything?_ Thane thought. He had much more urgent things to do. He needed to find Stern and yet here he was, listening to some old human speak nonsense to him as if it had any significance.

"Why do they do it?" the man asked Thane.

"They do it because they can," Thane replied, not caring.

"They must have a reason. That's not a reason."

"They help because… I don't know," Thane said, getting slightly annoyed, "because they are the kind of person that has nothing to lose and everything to gain from helping the Asari."

"And what about you, son?" the man asked, turning to Thane. "Would you help her?"

There was a pause. "I suppose. What are you getting at?" Thane spoke, in a rather aggressive and demanding voice.

"That even if one does not ask for help, it is always clear that they need it, whether they want it or not."

"Is that so?" Thane retorted, turning to meet the old man's gaze.

"Oh, yes," the man replied earnestly, looking deep into Thane's eyes. "I can see that you are in a pickle, young one. The question is: are you going to ask for help?"

"I don't ask for help. My problem, my solution."

There was another pause as the old man turned, once more, to face the crowd. "And how has that worked out for you so far?" he asked, not in a manner befitting an interrogation, more like a casual inquiry, as if asking about ones thoughts on the weather.

Thane sat still and brewed on this. He had never asked for help before because he had told himself that he had never needed it. It seemed strange to him that this man was for all intents and purposes offering his help, especially to a drell he had never met. Thane had been taught that when on a mission nothing should stand between you and your target. Or, at least, nothing you can't overcome. But now the whole city stood between him and his target, with his target somewhere in its vast sheets of buildings and people.

Thane turned and looked at the theatre once more. His eyes, fixed on the top of the theatre in which an archway perched itself valiantly, lit up by multiple sparkling neon lights. He thought when he first saw it, that if Amonkira was to descend from the heavens and grab the archway as a handle, even he would not be able to lift the structure from its roots. But, as it does, reality – cold and often cruel – appears before you and you are faced with the idea that the gods can do anything, and that you are in a situation where you are in desperate need of help; accept help, or accept failure.

"You need to find someone," Thane said, his voice as cold as it ever was. "You don't know where he is, but you know that he is scared."

"Does this someone perhaps go home when scared? Somewhere safe?" the old man asked.

"No," Thane replied. "He prefers the company of his most trusted."

"Why would he be scared?"

Thane had time to think this through. "Because something has gone wrong with some plans, probably."

"How do you figure?"

"He carries an air of control and a means to sustain said control. But now he is anxious and paranoid, eager to get to some destination."

"How would he get to his most trusted?"

"He would call them."

"Using his own property as means to contact them?"

"Probably… not…" Thane said slowly, realising where he was leading him.

"Well, I would use public property as means to contact them then," the old man argued. "I would go straight to the phones on, say, Phinor Street and make the call."

"Yes, you would, wouldn't you," Thane said, turning to the man. It was the first time Thane ever looked at the old man properly. Looking deep into the old man's eyes, Thane saw something which he could not explain: a resolute and meaningful determination. The clarity of this man's wisdom contradicted the slumped posture and ageing body. Thane saw for the first time in a human a desire to aid someone in need without the necessity to want something in return.

"Why do you do this?" Thane said, enquiringly. "What is your purpose?"

"My purpose?" The old man replied, quizzically. "We're not here to discuss my purpose. We are here to discuss yours."

"What do you mean?"

"We have," the man began, "in each and every one of us, whether we are drell, Asari, human or whatever, an innate sense of the good. When I saw you, I saw someone who saw no more purpose in his work. That is the worst thing of all, the most grotesque and ugly thing to ever face this universe, the person without a purpose. I am showing you a path to help you reclaim that lost sense of self, that fundamental and complete harmony between the body and soul. You would call that being Whole, would you not?"

"Is that how you saw me?" Thane asked, slowly and earnestly.

"Indeed. The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern by actions alone. Remember that. Your inability to accept help when you need it is a sign of weakness. I see that you feel weakness. Not that often, but often enough to make you doubt yourself. You feel something that you can neither control nor dissipate; a feeling of utter abandonment. But the solution is so simple."

"And what is the solution?"

"I think you can work it out."

Thane turned away from the old man once more, and stared at the magnificent theatre, which he noticed was glowing evermore brightly; a symbol, a paragon of strength, stability, and civility. It seems so strange that a man such as Stern would live on a planet such as this. He would taint it without even the dignity of saying it was him. But even he could not weaken the integrity of that structure. But he would try, for there would be men, such as Stern, who knew that some things, such as the theatre, cannot be corrupted externally, and so they will try to weaken it by attacking everything dear to its heart, not the object itself. _The soul_; _that is the key. That which we cherish and that which we know we must protect above all else._

_Is this why I am doing it?_ Thane reflected._ Am I being tasked to __protect the integrity – the soul – of this universe?_ It seemed so obvious to him that this universe, while grand in its scale and unbelievably diverse, was so unspeakably cold, dark and, in some ways, evil. _How can we live in a society that turns a blind e__ye to men like Stern to profit over the deaths of others on other planets, and yet cry foul when something happens close to home?_

'I think you can work it out', was playing in Thane's mind. The solution to self-doubt and self-pity, according to the old man so easily recognised and so easily initiated, was somewhere. Thane looked at the old man, who looked curiously back at him. Thane doubted he could come up with the answer any time soon. Then it struck him.

"You will, at times, feel doubt and pity, but never let it control you."

The old man smiled. "You've got it. People will always feel those things. It is inevitable that any action you undertake or any thought you imagine will bring doubt. But the best of everyone is the person who recognises this and moves on. You must never let it cloud your judgement. If you let it do that, then you're no better than a Thresher Maw who acts blindly on impulses."

Thane rose from the bench slowly, a new sense of self recognised, and his mind clear. "Thank you," he spoke, sincerely. "I…" he continued, not able to find the words to describe the difference this one stranger had made.

The man followed Thane up with his eyes. "Your ability to be helped and to help is your most valuable possession."

"I can't thank you enough," Thane spoke, turning to face him. "I have to go. How long will you be here?"

"A while," he replied, earnestly. "Cecily will need some alone time after I couldn't get tickets. I think I will sit here and enjoy the civility of Illium's finest. Good luck, my friend."

With one final bow, Thane turned and began to walk away.


	4. Act I: Ch 4: The Men Who Follow

**Chapter 4: The Men Who Follow**

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><p>Stern handed over his credits to the driver, opened the door, and stepped onto the pavement. It was cold. He forgot to bring a jacket, but he had no time to get one. His advisers would be here any minute. They would know what to do.<p>

As the sound of the taxi slowly began to fade into the distance, silence encompassed the area. Stern stood there, waiting for something to happen – the tiniest sign of movement. For several minutes he stood still, up straight, hands in pockets. Nothing happened.

Stern took his hand out of his pocket and looked at his watch. They were 10 minutes late._ Unacceptable_, Stern thought. _And at a time like this!_ It was then that he heard something. It was a soft noise, but getting slightly louder. Stern turned around and, in the distance, he was just able to discern three men walking towards him. It was his advisers. He could tell from the slumped posture and slow movement.

"You are late! I said twenty minutes!" Stern yelled in absolute fury as the men approached him.

"We… We are… sorry, sir," one man spoke, his voice high-pitched and worried.

Stern turned to look at him. It was Jonathan Smart, his youngest adviser. Only 24, Smart had lived his life so far exceedingly rough. He looked like he was in his mid-30s. His eyes were baggy and his posture crooked, from stress and a general lack of sleep due to the immense work Stern put him through.

"You're damn right you're sorry! I have half a mind to just shoot you all now. I pay your wages and so you will do what I tell you! Right now, I want you to tell me what the hell happened. What went wrong? How do we deal with this?"

"Sir," spoke the man next to Smart, "there is really nothing we can do. What is done is done. The Blue Suns want you dead. They want retribution for you supplying the weapons to the Blood Pack, which killed so many of their men."

Stern rounded on him. "You think I don't already know that, Watson? You think that I called you here for a picnic?"

"We were just working on the quandary when you called us. I tried to tell you that," spoke the third man, Vale.

It was the odd phrase that made Stern turn and look at Vale, not the fact he was speaking. On the contrary, he couldn't have cared less. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"The quandary, sir," Vale repeated.

It was the look in Vale's eyes that got Stern; they were scared, and unconditionally guilty. "What… What are you trying to say?" Stern said quietly.

Then it hit him.

"You… You lead them… They are here?"

Vale took a deep swallow and, hardly noticeable, gave a slight nod. "We are so sorry, sir, we had no choice," he pleaded.

Stern took a step backwards. It couldn't be true. They wouldn't have. But they did. Immediately, Stern reached for his holster and withdrew his gun. "You bastards!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Stern turned and aimed his pistol at Smart. Smart reacted; he took a step backwards – but there was no hope for him. There was a blast and a scream as a bullet penetrated through Smart's head, and he collapsed onto the ground. Blood began to pour from the open wound in his head all over the concrete and into the gutter.

"Please, sir, don't–" began Watson. But before he could finish the sentence, Stern had turned the gun on him and fired. Watson was flown backwards with the force of the bullet and collapsed, dead, right next to Smart's body. Turning the gun on Vale, Vale gasped and took a step back.

"Sir, we had no choice. It was you or us. Please, mercy," he begged, beginning to cry.

"You were my most valuable adviser," Stern began. "Advise your way out of this one."

Stern pulled the trigger four times and unloaded a flurry of bullets in the Vale's chest and head. Vale's body collapsed into a heap on the ground, next to Smart and Watson. Keeping his gun raised for a moment longer, Stern then lowered it to his side and took a deep breath.

"What a mess," he spoke softly to himself, placing the pistol back into its holster.

Standing there, in silence, Stern closed his eyes. He needed to focus, but then an unfamiliar voice spoke out in the darkness.

"Remember, the man who follows is forever at your back, but they may not be watching it," spoke the voice. It was synthesised and clearly male.

Stern opened his eyes slowly. The voice was coming from behind him. Turning, Stern saw the silhouette of a man, standing still in the shadows, looking at him. From what Stern could tell he was wearing armour and a helmet, which would explain the synthetic voice.

"You spend so much time making everyone around you follow that you forgot to let someone stand by your side," the voice continued as the man stepped forward, into the light. He was wearing white and blue armour. He was Blue Suns. Stern noticed there was a red patch on the right side of his chest. He was a Commander.

"I don't need your philosophical bullshit, Blue Suns," Stern replied, angrily.

The man stood quite still. "What do you need then, Stern?" he then asked, casually.

Stern stood still as well. He was content not to show any fear, although there was a great deal of it. "A deal," he replied.

"Oh, a deal?" the man said, with a trace of mockery in his voice. "Well, well, well, straight to business I see. But the thing is this, what could you possibly offer us that would conceivably reconcile the fact that over one hundred of us are dead because of you?"

"Listen," Stern began, "I have money. I have power. I have contacts. You can have all of it."

"Sounds tempting… But I will pass on that. Money? We have enough of that already. Contacts? Useless. Power? Hardly," he said, scoffing at the last point.

Stern could tell from the elation in this man's voice that there was no way out of this. Well, he was not going to beg for his life. That was for sure.

"What I don't get," the man said, chuckling, "is that you are one of the biggest arms dealers in the system, but we were so easily able to infiltrate your hierarchy. I mean, for someone of your – shall we say – stature, you are amazingly stupid."

"How did you find me so quickly?" Stern spoke. He had to know, even if it was the last thing he was to ever know.

The man raised his hands to his helmet. He turned the helmet a fraction to the left and, with a squeak, he then raised the helmet and revealed his face. Stern could now see a clear view of the Commander's face. He had black hair with a matching goatee, toned cheekbones, and pale blue eyes. There was a fresh, deep scar on the left side of his face, signalling that something very sharp had gashed his face not that long ago. He carried with him an air of arrogance and complete superiority. If he hadn't seen the patch, Stern could tell he was high-ranking nonetheless.

"Well, that's an interesting story," the man began in answer to Stern's question. His voice was cold and rough. "You think you had the perfect organisational setup, didn't you? But it wasn't. Assassinations over telephones, elimination of potentially dangerous employees you had that could have given away secrets, and a trusted group of advisers. But you know what the secret is? The secret to undo everything? Money. Money works wonders. And fear. Put them together and you got an almighty duo, an almighty weapon, which strips men of their soul and replaces it with guilt."

"Looks like you and I have the same business strategy," Stern said.

"In theory: yes. In implementation: no. You focus too much on the fear, Mister Stern. With too much fear, you scare people away. You need a balance. You, in a way, want to make people scared of you to the _point_ where they will run. But you also need to make people enticed by your methods. This is where money comes in. You can bring people to the point of running, but if you say that if they join you they'll be rich, they will join – join on their own free will – and be guilty for it. They will have that guilt to the rest of their lives, and so you use it against them. That's the key."

"That doesn't explain how you found me," Stern replied, coldly.

"Doesn't it? Of course it does. Those men you thought died on Omega… are now with us. They told us how your contracts work: via telephone. We had someone to take the place of one of your employees during a phone call to which we traced it to your advisers; and your advisers led us to you. All that through money and fear, Stern."

Stern looked coldly into the eyes of his opponent. It made sense, but there was one thing unaccounted for. "I haven't set any contracts this week. How did you do it so quickly? I only got the message this afternoon," Stern said, taking out his datapad and waving it.

The man began to smirk. "_You_ only got the message today, Stern."

"What? Are you saying–?"

"Your operation failed weeks ago, you fool! Your ex-bosses only sent you the message today. In the time since it failed and now, we have managed to infiltrate every level of your infrastructure. You are done, Stern."

The words hit him like a punch in the stomach, an unpleasant and unfamiliar feeling which irked Stern to the core. Nobody had ever been in a position, let alone actually said those words to him. The thought reinvigorated his rage, and his hand inched towards his sidearm. _If I play my cards right, I can kill this bastard and get away before more of them show up, _he pondered to himself.

Unfortunately, the Blue Suns Commander had been watching him intently during his prolonged pause, and smiled when he noticed Stern reaching for his gun.

"I wouldn't bother, Stern. I really wouldn't," he said confidently.

Stern's hand froze, but seeing his adversary so obviously content did nothing to assuage his anger.

"And why not?" Stern growled. " I could put a round in your head before you even got a hand to your rifle, and then I walk out of here alive while you and your pathetic Blue Suns remain where you belong: at my feet!"

The Commander frowned; the insult thrown towards his organisation had obviously struck a nerve. But his hands didn't even twitch towards the rifle slung across his back.

"Watch yourself, Stern. Your idiocy cost the lives of over a hundred of my men. I won't stand here and listen to you insulting them as if you were somehow superior to the average Illium cockroach."

It was Stern's turn to smile. "Well I don't see what you are going to do about it. And I find it hard to imagine you hearing much of anything with a bullet between your eyes."

Stern's confidence turned to confusion as he saw the Commander smile again. _Why __the hell is this man so damn pleased with himself? I could shoot him right now and get away, so why isn't he afraid?_ His hand began to move slowly towards his holster once again.

"Even if you could hit me from there, which I seriously doubt, it still won't do you any good," the Commander gloated.

Stern had heard enough. Seizing his chance, he quickly unholstered his sidearm and placed the Commander in his sights. To his utter consternation, the man had neither moved nor made any attempt to reach for his rifle. Dismissing his doubt, Stern pulled the trigger and heard the metallic _click_.

Nothing happened.

Bewildered, Stern pulled the trigger again. Nothing. Again and again he tried to fire at the Commander to no avail, until despair finally clawed its way into his chest. His arms fell to his sides, his confidence evaporated. All that was left was the man standing before him, his smirk more evident than ever.

"Haliat Armoury Standard Security-Level sidearm. Most preferred light weapon for high-profile bodyguard services, Illium Security, Fleet armaments and certain arms dealers; most notably: one Tiberius Stern. Light, balanced, effective at moderate range, accurate at close range, holds a standard weighted magazine which effectively balances the weight of the barrel with the grip. Standard magazine size: 6 rounds."

Stern heard and understood what the Commander was saying, as he knew darned well the schematics for this sidearm and countless other weapons he sold and traded. It was this sudden reminder that split his thoughts in two, and, for the first time in his memory, he cursed his own stupidity.

His chances of escape had died with his advisors.

"So now you know," the Commander stated, "I never, _never_ go into a situation without knowing everything I need to know. Why do you think I sent your advisors in first? I knew you would turn on them when you found out what they did. I knew you only carried one gun with you – and, as you heard, I know all about it, too.

Three advisors and six bullets? Let's just say I know about some anger issues you have with people who disobey. One round isn't enough when you want to prove a point, is it? So, once again, your arrogance and inability to see the big picture will mean the end of you."

Stern felt only despair, but at the same time, he still had what little pride was left. He would never beg for mercy like Vale did. If he was to die, then let the Blue Suns Commander do it face-to-face. However, one last question remained.

"Why did you do all this? Why go to all this trouble? You could have killed me how many times today, and it would have taken much less time. Why are you trying to make it so damn poetic?"

The man raised his chin, obviously feeling pride behind what he was saying.

"Because one round isn't enough if you want to prove a point. Killing you without you hearing what I've said is meaningless. I want you to feel exactly as you do now: hopeless, defeated, and realising that you were completely outmatched by someone else; knowing that I beat you in every way possible."

The words pounded into Stern, and he felt sicker with every passing moment. Once again, the unfamiliar feeling of being outmatched gave rise to his anger.

"Then just get it over with you bastard!" Stern yelled. "Stop running your mouth and kill me already! You've got me right in front of you, with nowhere to go. Stop stroking your damn ego and shoot me like a man!"

The Commander laughed. "No, Stern, it's not going to happen like that. You don't deserve a bullet from _my_ gun. The blood on your hands was never earned properly. You never killed my men face-to-face like we are now. You're going to die like my men died: from far away. Somewhere you can't control or understand; and from someone you can't see, and will never know."

With that, he reached for his radio. "Sniper Team, take him out!"

Stern's heart began to beat faster as the prospect of snipers taking his head off clawed its way into his mind. He stood there, frozen in fear.

A few seconds went by in which nothing happened. Stern glanced around, as if hoping to see the dark outline of the sniper on a rooftop, or the glint of a scope in the setting sun. He saw neither. Looking back at the man facing him, Stern noticed that he was standing there, confused. He turned his radio back on. "Sniper Team! I said: take him out!"

There was another pause in which nothing happened.

Without wasting a second, Stern took his chance. He ejected the magazine from the pistol and quickly grabbed his spare clip from his pocket. In one movement, he slid the magazine home and released the slide, hearing a satisfying click as it placed the first round in the chamber, as if awaiting his order. Sighting down the barrel to the Commander's head, Stern could see his hands were lowered away from his face, and though his eyes widened at the realisation of what he was doing, Stern knew there was nothing that could stop his first shot. He pulled the trigger.

The pistol kicked back in his hands, and Stern could see the Commander attempt to jump back – but it was too late.

With a squelching noise and a grunt, a bullet went straight through the Commander's neck. Then, with the sound of a gag reflex, blood began to spurt from the newly opened wound. The mercenary dropped his gun and he collapsed onto the ground, clutching his neck in the vain hope of stopping the torrent of blood rushing out of it.

Stern lowered his pistol and, with an air of satisfaction, walked over to the dying man. The blood was pouring out of his neck, but there was a good chance his fellow Blue Suns would be able to save him with the right equipment. But, of course, there was no way Stern was going to let him live after what he had just had to endure from the Commander.

"So now _you_ know, I _never_ go into a situation without bringing an extra clip for that pistol you seemed to know so well," Stern began with cold-hearted contempt, but also amusement. "For someone who claims to be as thorough as you, I'd have a word with those snipers of yours. Maybe they weren't afraid enough to do their jobs properly, right, my friend?"

The Commander couldn't answer, but Stern noted with satisfaction that he was clearly enraged, but at the same time terrified for his life.

"Well, now we can all say we know how it felt to be those men of yours I killed, can't we?" Stern asked mockingly. "Hopeless, defeated, and realising you were completely outmatched by someone else. Knowing I beat you in every way possible."

Stern placed special emphasis behind those last few words, wanting the Commander to feel every bit of the despair he had just felt.

Stern raised the gun and aimed it at the Commander's head. But in the instant between the click of metal as he pulled the trigger and the flash of heat, an inexorable force struck the gun and it flew out of his grasp, clattering away behind an empty bench.

Pain shot up Stern's arm as the force of the gunshot had broken his finger and thumb; he grabbed his wrist and yelled as he spun around to see where the shot had come from. The walkway was empty, save for him and the coughing man at his feet. He turned back the other way only to be met by the innocently flickering streetlight down the path. Before he could turn again, he felt a hard metal object pressed against the back of his head.

Turning completely around, Stern saw a young drell boy holding a gun to his forehead.


	5. Act I: Ch 5: Age of Discovery

**Chapter 5: Age of Discovery**

* * *

><p>THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER<p>

The sign said, "Phinor Street". This sign, which glowed bright blue, shined brightly and beautifully against the night backdrop. Thane had stopped abruptly when seeing this, as it illuminated everything in the vicinity and gave him a feeling of comfort. Standing there for a few moments, he had to remember why he was there. It then came back to him, and he made a right, onto the street. There was hardly anyone there, or anything to look at, but he could see in the distance the white lights of several phone boxes.

Knowing that these phones were the ones he was looking for – the ones the old man had spoken of – Thane knew that he was one step closer to once again catching up to his target. Sprinting up to them, Thane reached the row of six independent phones. There had only seemed to be two or three in the distance. This would complicate matters for him._ Which one could he have used?_ Thane pondered, carefully eyeing each phone.

There were only the six phones in the alcove, and, further on, Thane saw another set of six phones standing idly by. In which set was the phone Stern used? Even if it was this current set of six, there was still too many to tap and trace one by one. By the time he found the right one Stern could be too far to track properly. Thane felt his panic rising; shame and guilt flared up in his chest, intensified by thoughts of returning minus the kill. There was no way to tell quickly which phone Stern had used, the most effective methods took too long, and there was no alternative to finding out where he had gone. Thane's mouth went dry, a tall order for a drell, whose bodies were always drier than other species; and his pulse quickened as the panic reached a crescendo.

Just as he raised his fist to vent his frustration on the nearest wall, Thane suddenly remembered something he had heard many months before, during his teachings in matters remarkably similar to these: _I can only teach you to think, I cannot teach you how to think. And I have no interest in doing so anyway. You are learning how to become the perfect instruments of skill, cunning, excellence and efficiency. But in the real galaxy, you must be so much more than an instrument. An instrument has a single function or purpose, and can only be used a certain way to achieve it. If the situation changes even slightly, the instrument becomes useless and a different one is needed. We have no such luxury to send two or more of you to complete a single task. The solution is for each one of you to be as adept at breaking or changing rules as you are at following them. Never assume that what we teach applies to solve any scenario; just assume that the scenario requires any number of solutions to solve. This is why I will not teach you how to think; you must teach yourselves how to think._

Thane's pulse slowed, his mind cleared, and he felt a slight smile on his face as another memory surfaced, this time from only minutes before: _It is inevitable that any action you undertake or any thought you imagine will bring doubt. But the best of everyone is the person who recognises this and moves on. You must never let it cloud your judgement. If you let it do that, then you're no better than a Thresher Maw who acts blindly on impulses._ Thane lowered his fist slowly, suddenly amused at how close he had just come to becoming the proverbial "Thresher Maw" of Phinor Street. Thane closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, thanking his mind for saving him from himself. _Phone… log… security… security… camera… Camera! _When his eyes finally opened, he found himself focused, sharp and thoroughly aware of what to do next. There was a way to determine which phone Stern had used; and it wouldn't take much time at all.

Thane turned away from the phones. The phones on Illium, he realised, all had security measures installed by the government to ensure that records of whoever used a public phone within the last 100 hours were kept archived. This was so a security officer can access it to help with investigations if they believed a suspect or victim had used a particular phone. It was useful, although completely corruptible. There had been more than one case of officers accessing calls and blackmailing people.

Thane then looked up, inspecting to see whether there were any security cameras in the area which he could use. In the far right corner of the street, he saw a camera that directly overlooked the surrounding area. That'd be his best bet. Sprinting over to the power box that was attached to the security camera pole, Thane broke open the lock and examined the holographic screen projector inside. Pressing the 'On' button, Thane was greeted with a power-up logo, followed by a security screen that demanded a code to continue. Thane didn't know the code, but this didn't bother him in the slightest. He immediately grasped the edges of the screens projector and gently dislodged it, trying not to break anything.

Gently dropping the projector, he saw that, behind the screen, there were masses of wiring; each having a purpose, each doing its duty. He would have to hurry. He needed to rearrange some wires, but doing so would alert the local security – as any tampering with government property resulted in a silent alarm being tripped and tipping off the local station. Thane traced a purple wire from the exposed motherboard to the back of the box which had a designated slot named: 'Out'. That was the wire that connected to the central hub, and, therefore, the security system. Remove that and you have removed the security, but you will have also removed the connection to the archived footage. For this, he needed to find a red wire that acted as the backup source for the footage. That wire was used in case of a blackout or security failure. That footage had no security. Thane was shocked that he remembered how to do this, for it was one of the first things he had learnt about galaxy-wide generic phone security.

Thane took a deep breath and quickly shifted the red and purple wiring around. With two _clicks_, he heard the hologram bring up an error as he removed the two wires. With another two _clicks_ as he rearranged the wires and the sound signalling the removal of the security and the error message on the hologram, Thane replaced the projector carefully. Looking down at the holographic screen, he saw, before him, massive amounts of folders being displayed. Thane scrolled down and selected the one with the most recent update log. He then found the file designated "_7:00PM – 8:00PM"_ and selecting that too, a video began to play. Thane clicked the 'Fast Forward' button and stopped it at around the 7:30 mark – around the time he lost track of Stern. He had been trained to actively analyse visual scenes no matter how fast they were going. Holding the button again, Thane instantly stopped the footage at 7:41. There, in plain sight, was Stern, walking over to the far left phone and making a call. He had him.

Thane, knowing what phone to use, then went into the options menu and deleted the video and all subsequent footage of him, before pulling out the projector altogether, breaking the security camera, so no one would know who had done it and trace the log. With the snapping noise of wiring being stretched and broken, as well as the sizzling noise of the phones power source being disrupted by the removal of the core, Thane threw the pieces to the ground, satisfied as he heard the smash of broken electrical pieces scattering across the area.

Thane turned to face the phones and rushed over to the far left one – the one Stern had used. In the booth, next to the phone, was a small security panel. The writing on it expressly forbid any unofficial usage by anyway outside of the Illium Technical Services. Nonetheless, Thane broke open the lock to the panel and opened the door. Inside there were also masses of wiring. He only needed to find one.

Studying the panel closely, Thane found a green wire in the top-left corner, under the word 'Out', and removed it. He then picked up the receiver and dialled the Illium Security Service number. After a few dials, the phone picked up, and a woman's voice, soft but serious, began to talk to him.

"Illium Security Service. What is your emergency?" the woman spoke.

"This is security officer one-one-eight-zero-four," Thane began. "My team was dispatched just a few moments ago to Phinor Street in response to vandalism."

He had memorised the number of a local officer he saw a few days ago. He knew what to do; he was trained for it.

"Just a minute while I search for you officer one-one-eight-zero-four," the woman replied.

"There is no time, officer!" Thane said, his voice in a fake tone of urgency. "The vandal is going to get away. He broke the security camera, so we can't identify who it was. Maybe the phone camera caught him; you need to unlock it."

There was a pause as the woman over the phone clearly contemplated this last statement. The absence of noise from her end lasted a bit longer than was necessary, and this worried Thane. "Just a moment," spoke the woman's voice once more, "while I see you through the phone camera."

Thane stood there for a moment, in complete silence. Then, a flashing red light began to show on the camera in the booth. Thane stared at it until his gaze was drawn away by the woman's voice, which once again spoke through the receiver. "I'm sorry, but I can't seem to see you. The camera is broken. Can you see the screen? Is it on?"

"Yes," Thane replied. "I think it might be something on your end because the screen appears to be working."

There was a sigh as the woman over the phone gave a heavy breath. "This happens every time," the woman said, exhausted. "The ITS does nothing but cause more problems. They fix one thing, break another."

"Yes, the same thing happened just last week over on Schwat Street. It's ridiculous," Thane lied.

After a moment, there was the sound of a click, and Thane, looking at the screen, noticed that the woman had unlocked the phone. The call history of this phone was now present before him. "Thank you," Thane said sincerely, and hung up the phone.

Looking eagerly, he began to search the call history of today – at around 7:40 this evening. He found one at 7:41:28, and clicked the 'Play' button. The call was made to a silent number.

'_All of you are going to meet me at the corner of Academy Drive and Biddulph Place in the Outskirts in twenty minutes! Do you understand?'._

'_But, sir, we were-'._

Thane listened intently to the entire conversation, and when the call ended, he not only knew where Stern was, he also knew what Stern was running from: the Blue Suns. It was at that point that Thane heard rushing footsteps. The security guards were arriving.

Replacing the phone and closing the panel, making it look like it wasn't tampered with, Thane began to sprint in the opposite direction, away from the guards, and out of sight.

**-/\/\/\/\/\/\**_**-**  
><em>

_So, something has gone wrong… And the Blue Suns are after him,_ Thane thought to himself as he was sitting in the back of a taxi, on the way to the Outskirts._ But what was Vale trying to say to Stern? That is what is most intriguing. Vale was flushed and panicky on the monitor. Why?_

Thane sat in silence, contemplating this. But before he could get any further, the taxi had stopped as he arrived at his destination. It was Romulus Street, a few blocks away from Biddulph Place. Thane handed over the credits and got out of the vehicle.

"Which direction is Biddulph Place?" Thane asked the driver.

"Just keep going down this road and you'll hit it," the Krogan spoke.

As the taxi drove away, Thane began to run down the street. He needed to get there as fast as possible. He had this funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that something is going to go terribly wrong; that he may miss his chance once again.

Passing empty building after empty building, Thane then heard something. He stopped and went still. Was he being followed? He made sure he was not being followed when he caught the cab. There were no other vehicles down this road when he got out. But he clearly heard something. Closing his eyes, he was able to hear much more clearly. He was not alone. There were footsteps.

Thane, in one swift move, pulled out his pistol and turned around. To his surprise, no one was there – but he continued to hear the footsteps, followed by barely audible whispers, and then he knew that the noises weren't coming from the street, but the roof of the building next to him. He also knew that opposite this building, which stretched on for another few yards, was Biddulph Place.

Thane turned around, and, ahead of him, he saw an open door. Since the other doors in this district were closed and boarded up due to lack of funding, this was most peculiar. He knew instinctively that the people on the roof, whoever they were, had used that entrance to get there.

Walking up to the door silently, he noticed that the lock on the door had been melted. Only professionals had the tools to do this. The fact that it was still expelling steam was a sign that the people up there hadn't been there for long.

Entering the building, Thane looked around to see if there were any doors to get to the roof, and on the other side of the structure he saw one ajar. It was uncommonly dark in there, not helped by the lack of power to the lights. This door was the only other door emitting light.

Thane slowly made his was around the inside of the building to the door, making sure not to touch anything or make any noise, his weapon raised. Discretion and stealth are key to a mission. As he approached, the noises of people talking became louder and louder. Thane could distinguish three voices. Not from the tone (because he could tell they were Salarian and, therefore, have the same voice), but from the conversation that seemed to be extremely one-sided – two of them ganging up on another.

"I still don't see why we can't just shoot him now," spoke one Salarian.

"We wait for the signal, Gin," replied another, "like he said."

"He is human! What does he know?" spoke the third.

"You know how Gannicus runs things," declared the second Salarian. "Everything happens exactly like he says or someone gets to wake up inside an airlock."

"Where the hell does that human get off on slaving over the details? I swear I've never seen someone so content to just run their mouth rather than actually pull the trigger," said the first Salarian, obviously having contempt for this 'Gannicus'.

"I don't know, and I don't care. All I'm concerned with is keeping my head on my shoulders, and if you two start to get in the way of that, we've got a problem."

There was a pause, no doubt a tense stare down between the Salarians, before one of them spoke again.

"All right, Jai, we'll do it his way. But consider this my last mission with you. As long as this zealot is on Illium, I won't be."

Thane snuck up the steps and onto the roof, following the conversation. Taking a peek through the open door, he saw, on the other side of the building, three figures crouched with what appeared to be sniper rifles. It was dark, but not enough to mask the white and blue armour the figures were wearing.

_Blue Suns?_ He thought, confused. _They are here already?_

All that Thane knew was that they were here for Stern. He couldn't let that happen. Stern was Thane's target, not theirs. He could not go back to his superiors and say someone else did it. It unreservedly voids the purpose of the gaining knowledge and understanding if someone else does the work for you.

It was at that point that, in the distance, he heard soft popping noises – gunfire.

"Looks like the party has started," spoke a Salarian. "Line up your shots now; Gannicus will give his order any minute."

"Six shots – just like Gannicus said," interjected another. "Unless he remembers to reload, Stern won't be a threat to anyone down there."

"Doesn't matter, Jai. We need to be ready for his order. I seriously doubt he's going to walk right up to Stern if the man could shoot him that easily," replied the first.

Thane watched as the Salarians raised their weapons and sighted their target. Knowing he only had a few seconds to prevent them from killing _his_ target, Thane sprinted over to the mercenaries.

_First point of attack_, Thane thought to himself, looking at the first Salarian, Jai; _punch the Salarian vertebral column in the middle, causing temporary numbness of back_. Thane clenched his hand into a fist and smashed it into the Salarian's back. The speed of the punch and the weakness of the spine ensured it was a silent attack. Jai had not felt anything until it was too late. His back numbed, it was too late to let out a scream by the time the pain receptors had responded.

_Second point of attack; back numbed, body stunned, cover the mouth to silence scream_. Thane kicked the tendon at the back of the Jai's knee, ensuring he toppled backwards. Thane caught him and covered his mouth with a tight grip.

_Third point of attack; chop to the carotid artery, restricting oxygen to the brain, knocking person unconscious. _Thane silent, his opponent at his mercy, he, with a quickness matching no other drell in his class, struck the Salarian to the side of the neck.

A moment passed as the body slowly went limp, and he knew it had worked. He had expected no different.

"Have you both got a shot?" the leader, Gin, asked, his attention focused entirely in his scope.

Thane lowered the body of the unconscious Salarian to the ground and pounced on his next opponent. Striking at the same glorious speed and precision as the first downed enemy, Thane kicked the back of the Salarian's knees and caught him as he toppled, covering his mouth. He had to make this quick. A moment passed, and neither of Gin's comrades had answered.

Thane watched as Gin, obviously annoyed, tore his gaze from the scope to see what the rest of his team were doing. Gin, on the left, turned to the right. Thane saw his jaw drop as the Salarian noticed one of his team slumped on the ground, unconscious.

Thane stood calm and still as Gin's eyes met his. Gin looked in shock as he watched the last conscious member of his team choke as he was locked in the arms of this young, unknown drell, his face drained of colour and his hands scrabbling against the vice-like grip.

"Resh, hold on!" Gin spoke, dropping his rifle and pulling out his pistol. "You're going to be okay."

There was a choked mumble from Resh as he tried to speak, to no avail. "Drop the pistol," Thane ordered in the same calm manner to which he was standing, "or he dies."

"You don't have the guts, kid," the Salarian spoke, in a manner that was a little too quick to be intimidating.

"Really?" Thane replied, mockingly. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"I don't give a damn what you think, you foolish drell!"

"Well, that's a pity," Thane answered in a tone of obviously fake disappointment.

At that moment, Thane, still holding his prisoner, charged at Gin.

Gin, who had not expected this, stood in shock as Resh slammed into him and knocked them both to the ground.

"Resh, get up," Gin said, pushing Resh off him and getting to his feet. When Resh didn't move he knew that this drell had knocked him out at the last moment. It was when he realised this that he felt an intense blow to the face, throwing him backwards and knocking him into some crates sitting behind him.

A moment passed as Gin had to collect himself. "Come on!" Gin then yelled at Thane, pushing himself off the crates. "I have beaten up kids your age before."

The Salarian charged at Thane, pulling out a blade from his belt as Thane stood there, as calm as ever he was. Gin swung the blade at Thane's head; but Thane, too fast, even for a Salarian, simply bowed his head and the blade went right over him. Thane then leaped forward, and his head slammed into Gin's.

The Salarian, stunned, dropped the blade and Thane caught it with a swift movement of his hand before stabbing it into the Salarian's thigh.

A scream of pain exhaled from Gin as he fell to the ground.

"You bastard!" he yelled. "Do you know who I am – who _we_ are?"

"Yes," Thane replied. "And you're not going to kill Stern."

Thane watched as confusion spread across Gin's face; but before Gin could reply, Thane punched him the face, smacking his head into the ground.

Dizzy and disorientated, Gin stared up into the burry face of Thane. "You're… with…" he began, before Thane stood over him, and with an absolute finality, beat his hand into the artery of the Salarian, knocking him unconscious, and placing the rooftop in immediate silence once more.

Thane stood there for a while, contemplating whether to take his pistol and shoot them all. _They were between me and Stern_, he thought. _But they aren't any longer._

_They tried to stop me… But I stopped them._

_They saw my face… That is irrelevant now._

_The world would be better without mercenaries like these… But my quarrel is not with them._

Thane looked down at the bodies of the three Salarian Blue Suns, Resh, Jai, and finally, Gin. He noticed Gin had the pistol lying next to him. He didn't get a chance to use it. Thane picked it up and examined it quickly.

On the butt of the gun, the words "Devlon Industries" were engraved on it.

_Stinger line, modified with anti-organic ammunition_, Thane thought as he flipped it over and looked at the chassis. _Reasonably accurate with good tendency to fire consistently without overheating._

Once finished with the examination, Thane threw the pistol to the ground and began to walk away. It was then that he heard a voice coming from Gin's direction – although it wasn't Gin's voice. Static encompassed the voice and Thane turned around to see a red light coming from the radio on Gin's shoulder.

Out of it, a deep voice spoke, cold and rough, but with total delight: "Sniper Team, take him out!"


	6. Act I: Ch 6: Legacy

**Chapter 6: Legacy**

* * *

><p>The echo of the gunshot continued to reverberate around the closely packed buildings of Biddulph Place. As the noise moved beyond hearing, Stern stood frozen, clutching his broken hand and staring down the barrel of Thane's pistol. For several moments, neither human nor drell moved an inch. The sky was darkening from the encroaching nightfall and Thane could make out the low-rumbling thunder of a storm in the distance; while also feeling the cold grip and distinctive weight of the pistol in his hand, and the quiet spluttering of the dying Blue Suns Commander lying at Stern's feet. Thane saw, heard and felt everything around him in silent appreciation. His first successful kill was only moments away, and he would be sure to remember every detail of it, no matter how small or tedious.<p>

Following the prolonged silence, Stern shifted ever so slightly, looking scared, but also confused.

"Are you with them?" he asked, breathing more heavily from the pain in his hand.

Thane waited before answering, still relishing in his surroundings. He did not relish the thought of killing this man, though he thoroughly deserved it; it was the prospect of succeeding beyond one's own expectations. Thane could not help but feel a juvenile sense of self-importance and grandeur at his accomplishment. Racing the Blue Suns to his target, outsmarting them and catching Stern completely off guard? Thane smiled inwardly and welcomed the feeling of contentment. It certainly made a pleasant change from the concern and doubt he had been saddled with since he first lost Stern on Phinor Street.

With a slight start, Thane rose from his thoughts, and decided to indulge Stern on his question.

"No, I am not with the Blue Suns. But I am here to kill you," he said.

Stern looked in Thane's eyes for a moment; he seemed to be working something out.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he asked Thane. "You took out his snipers. That's why I didn't end up with a bullet in my head before."

Thane was about to answer when he noticed the Commander spluttering and whispering incoherently on the ground. _Maybe I should put him out of his misery. _Thane mused. _No, not yet. Stern is to be my first kill and not this Blue Suns Leader. If he's not dead by the time I'm done with Stern, then I suppose I should send him off quickly._ Thane looked back at Stern and answered.

"Yes. That was me. But as for that round in the head, I wouldn't get too relaxed just yet. I've seen what you've done, Stern, what you've caused in countless systems across this sector. You're corrupting the very fabric of this society, turning people on their own principles and murdering anyone who decides to speak their minds. How many families have you torn apart? How many children have lost their parents because of you? How many innocent lives have you taken because they were just inconveniencing you?"

Stern's eyes narrowed at what Thane was saying. Far from appearing repentant, he seemed to be bristling with indignation, as if he were at the witness stand being accused of something distasteful.

"You're going to pass judgement on me? _You_, of all people?" he snarled. "You're going to call every life I've had a hand in ending a mortal crime, while at the same time passing off every life _you_ end as some noble act of retribution? You obviously have no problem with killing, so why is there a problem when someone else does it? Is it because they disagree with your self-righteous philosophy? Or are you just looking for a way to escape the consequences of _your_ actions?"

Thane was taken aback by this statement. Stern was unusually defiant when presented with his demise. Rather than offer terms or beg for mercy, he seemed to be welcoming the act, but also challenging Thane's motives at the same time. But Thane wouldn't let Stern dissuade him from what had to be done. _This man must die... Wait, no... He needs to die. The innocent people of Illium require the death of Tiberius Stern, simple as that. _

"Don't presume to know my moral code, Stern. I do what is required of me, and I look upon the act based on the effects it will have on others. With your death, your empire will collapse and countless innocent people will be spared their lives – and those you have already killed will be avenged. I consider that no less than justice."

For the first time since Thane had arrived, Stern's mouth curled into a smile.

"Oh, so you would call that justice?" he asked, mockingly. "Justice is overrated and pointless. What you call 'morality' is just the terrified, weak and incompetent masses scrambling to place a no-go stamp on everything they can't achieve for themselves! Do you honestly think I would be as 'popular' as I am now if I had never tried to become more than an insignificant speck on the map? I did what I had to do to make my life mean something, and yes I killed. I killed a whole lot, but regardless of what you or your hypocritical 'justice' would think, I've been one of the pillars of this society since the very beginning!"

Despite his genuine disgust for the man standing before him, Thane found himself totally absorbed in what Stern was saying.

"Illium needs its Death Dealers, just like it needs its economy, infrastructure and its air to breathe. But ever since I became bigger than the fish in the pond, it seems all the other fish want to team up and bring me down! Society unifying to remove a threat? I call it weaklings banding together to bring down someone better than they can ever hope to be! And speaking of weaklings, where do you stand in this mass of ineptitude? You do as you're told, right? So you must be somewhere between servant and slave on the food chain."

Thane felt anger flare up in his chest, and he suddenly felt a strong desire to prolong Stern's passing.

"I am no slave!" Thane said loudly. "I take orders as anyone else does, as fellow members of a galactic society. There was, is and always will be an order to things. We cannot and must not attempt to change that order for our own personal vendettas. What you would have is a society sold to the highest bidder! Lives traded and sold for no purpose other than the whims of people who have no place and no right to do so! You would place yourself above the natural order of things and pretend to run the world as you see fit, regardless of what damage it would cause to everyone that must kneel in order for you to rise."

Stern laughed contemptuously.

"Fortune favours the bold," he said simply. "Maybe a drell like you hasn't heard that statement before. That came from a very famous human by the name of Alexander the Great. He led his army against the seemingly impregnable Persian Empire back on Earth. Not only did he destroy the Persians, he damn near conquered the known world! Just as his dream of uniting the people of his empire under him was about to become a reality, his most trusted generals turned on him and poisoned his wine glass. Men who saw their king becoming more a god every day, and jealous of the power he held; the weak bringing down the strong. And what do you think happened after Alexander died? His empire, which stretched across the known world, was split into four pieces and centuries of wars ensued. Where was their self-righteousness then? When tens of thousands had died over the hollow remains of the empire, the men who had supposedly 'liberated' mankind from a tyrant had caused more death than they could have imagined. Did they deserve to die as well? Or are they justified in what they did because they sought to prevent one man from enslaving the world?

"Justice, morality, it's all moot. All that matters in this universe is you, and what you choose to do. Never mind what others think or do, if you have the chance to become something more, then ignoring that chance is an insult to what it means to be alive. Do you think either of our species would be here if some people hadn't taken a leap of faith in themselves?"

As Stern spoke, Thane stood there silently, transfixed on the words. They were completely wrong by Thane's concept of existence, or any rational being's concept of existence, but Thane nonetheless, hands still gripped tightly on the sidearm, needed to know why men like Stern do what they do. He needed to know if all slavers, arms dealers and dictators thought similarly.

Thane wasn't looking directly at Stern, but at the wall behind him, his weapon trained on Stern's forehead as accurately as it ever was. _All beings have a purpose_, Thane thought. _What was Stern's?_

Thane looked away from the wall and into Stern's dark eyes. They met him what an equally intense glare. Thane saw no fear, no regret and no pity, but also a hollow, antithetical knowledge that – even going to his death – he lived his life the way he wanted. Thane wondered what Stern saw when looking at him. He didn't doubt himself now. This man's life had to end, and he had the means to end it.

"Do you want to know what I see?" Stern spoke, coldly, as if Thane's look into his eyes revealed the question he had been wondering. "I see not just a drell. That is the least of it. I see the idea."

_The idea that shapes, binds and defines you_, Thane thought.

"The idea that has been drilled into your head," Stern continued. "The idea that you are right and I am wrong. The idea that I must die to preserve what is left of the inhospitable, godforsaken universe we call our home. But you don't see this place as devoid of meaning, do you? You don't see it as inhospitable; you see it the opposite way."

"I see it as it is, Stern," Thane spoke in a tone of absolute decisiveness.

"No!" Stern retorted, an unusual quality in his response. "Tell me, did you come here on your own free will? I don't think you did. You were _ordered_ here! You can preach that you could have declined the order if you wanted to, but I know the truth."

"And what is that?" Thane interjected angrily.

"That you are trapped," Stern spoke. "As much as you think you have won; as much as you think that the gun is pointed at my head, you are too proud to realise that you are pointing it at yourself."

Thane tore his gaze from Stern's eyes. _Do not listen_.

"But we all know what you are going to do next, don't we? I can see it now. I can see into your very soul, drell. The idea that, right now, is transforming into an emotional response. That emotional response that is triggering the outset of indignation that you know – you know so very well – that the reason you are here is because _it was asked of you_."

_There are good people in this universe, Thane, and there are those who wish to be. But there are also the opposite. And those are the ones we are fighting. But remember, Thane: good and bad are perspectives. Reason, truth and honour vary from society to society. We can't change the people until they see it in themselves that what they are doing, how they live their life and how they perceive the universe are shown objectively to them. But these beings are emotional beings. As are you, Thane. We can't change that, nor would we want to. But there are those who would use it against us. They are the corrupt ones who would spread their inadequacies onto the lives of others. You cannot – and will not – let that happen, Thane. If you even think you have, you have failed._

"It is my turn," Thane spoke, a renewed calmness in his voice, turning to meet Stern's eyes once more, which opened wider with an air of – for the first time – fear. "Yes, it was asked of me. But I knew the consequences. I _know_ – most of all – that my actions have consequences, and it may bring me unhappiness sometimes. But the measure of an individual cannot be discerned by actions alone.

"You act, Stern. That is all you do. You act with no thought into the consequences for others, only the positive results for yourself. That is _your_ idea. That is why _you're_ here, right now, against the barrel of my gun. That is your measurement, the length between my finger and your forehead.

"So, Stern, I say to you now: may Kalahira grant you forgiveness and mercy for your sins, because I won't."

Thane, standing resolute, drew his index finger back, pulling the trigger of his weapon.

There was a loud noise as a flash emitted from the barrel of his weapon. In an instant, Thane knew that the life of the man so proud, but so corrupt, had vanished from this world.

The head of Tiberius Stern flicked backwards by the force of the bullet and his body, unable to stand any longer, gracefully fell backwards and onto the ground with a soft smack, blood and faint smoke issuing from his head.

Thane's gun, raised and also issuing smoke, glowed slightly due to the heat of the exiting bullet.

Lowering his gun slowly, Thane's mind rushed over the prospect that he had taken his first life. He looked down at the motionless body of Tiberius Stern, and then turned his gaze towards the night sky. It was beautiful.

It was then that Thane felt the movement of a single drop of liquid moving slowly down his face. He had waited for this moment for so long, wishing for it to be here – and now that it was, he wished it wasn't. It hurt.

Thane was always told it would be hard, and he ignored it, relishing the prospect rather than contemplating the consequences on his very soul. _It is an odd thing, what we do_ – his superiors had told them one lesson – _to preserve the very fabric of galactic society. We go outside it to keep it safe. Almost everyone in this galaxy lives inside of it, safe and content that what they don't know won't hurt them. It is us that dares – no, must! – go outside of it. If someone wishes to stay inside the boundary of their limited knowledge and understanding, it is their choice. Or, rather, lack of it. But we will go where we must to ensure that those people, while living what they would call an 'ordinary' life, can actually live it._

_Make no mistakes children, this is not easy. You will not always succeed. But if you do, there are still consequences. It will hurt you. Make no mistake, it will hurt you! We cannot make you feel better; it is you who must do that. We will not give you a 'shoulder to cry on'; we will not tell you everything will get better. Hopefully it will. We think eventually you will feel better as you get used to it. But times will be hard. There will be dark days ahead. Make no mistake, taking that first step – it will hurt!_

As that drop of liquid dripped from his face and hit his shoe, Thane felt the touch of something else; something against his foot. Looking down, he saw two small pieces of paper, blown there by the wind, being propelled onto his leg. He leaned down and grabbed them.

Straightening up, Thane examined one of the two pieces of paper. It was glowing with the lights of various colours, illuminating the words hard-pressed onto the paper:

_Aynhitov Sharab  
>Ishmotico Theatre<br>Admit One_

Thane turned around and looked at Stern. His wallet had fallen out of his pocket and opened. A few credits had fallen out as well. He walked up to the wallet, picked it up and – about to place the tickets back inside – stopped. He stood there for a moment, looking into space.

He was brought back finally by the abrupt sound of spluttering. Turning his head, he looked at the Commander, who was still on the ground, holding his blood-covered hands over his injured neck. The Commander looked right back at him, his eyes bloodshot.

Thane felt nothing for him; he didn't care one way or the other. This man, like Stern, had made his choices. And he was now paying for them.

Thane walked up to the Commander, placing the tickets in his pocket, and leaned over him, inspecting the damage of the wound.

"You, who walk the path of a brute," Thane spoke solemnly, "will now know what it is like to feel the pain the brute forces on others."

The Commander looked deep into Thane's eyes, contempt dug deep. He opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, blood spurt out and dripped down his chin.

With that, Thane stood back up, and walked away.


	7. Act I: Ch 7: The Gift of Giving

**Chapter 7: The Gift of Giving**

* * *

><p>He sat there. He didn't know how long, and he didn't particularly care. Night had long since appeared, and he enjoyed the comfort of knowing that even in the dim light above him, the towering structure of the theatre warmed his heart with enough power to last him the rest of his life.<p>

He turned to look at it. He had always wanted to write opera as a boy, and he could give no other identity to the thing he once sought. _If you want to know what it is_, he had told himself, _listen to the lines of Puccini's __Nessun dorma__ – or to the first act Wagner's Tristan und Isolde_. _Men have not found the words for that identity they seek; nor the deed or the thought. But they have found the music. Let me see it_, he had thought,_ in one single act of being. I need to see it made real. Let me know the answer to the promise that music gives. Neither servants nor those served; not altars and immolations; but the final and the fulfilled, innocent of pain. Don't help me or serve me, but let me see it once, because I need it. __Don't work for my happiness, my people, my brothers – show me yours. Appear before me and show me that it is possible – show me your achievement – and then that knowledge will give me courage to show you mine._

The show began in an hour. He didn't know why he suddenly felt the way he did. That creeping sensation of guilt, revealed to him by the fact that he let not only his wife down, but himself. The little boy he had once known was there before him, but no longer wanted to associate himself with what he is now.

But not once did he ever cease his love for music. Music reveals the soul and shines it brightly so that all manner of darkness and injustice cease to exist before it.

"Excuse me, sir," spoke the voice of a young woman.

He turned around, and, before him, stood the figure of a young Asari. He smiled warmly.

"Can I help you, miss?" he spoke with complete sincerity.

The Asari looked a bit nervous, as if she didn't know what to say. She paused for a minute, before extending her hand. "I have something for you, sir," she said.

He looked down at her hand, and in it, were two pieces of paper.

"What is it?" he asked, confused, slowly extending his hand to take what she was offering.

"I don't know. I was just asked to deliver them to you. He said you might be here," she replied.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

The old man looked down at the two pieces of paper before him. They glowed bright with the words: _Aynhitov Sharab_. He widened his eyes as he realised what he was looking at.

He then looked up at the Asari woman standing confused in front of him. "Do you know what it is?" she asked tentatively.

The old man chuckled. "Oh, just the gift of giving, my dear. The gift of giving."

* * *

><p><strong>END OF ACT I<strong>


	8. Act II: Chapter 1: Furious Guardians

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
><strong>

**Act II: **Pieces on the Untold Dais**  
><strong>

****\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**/**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Furious Guardians<br>**

* * *

><p><em>I see the idea… I see the idea that has been drilled into your head… The reason you are here is because it was asked of you…<em>

_I see the idea…_

_I see the idea…_

There was a flash of light, then the withdrawal of heat from the weapon, then a body – a man's body, tall and slim – collapsing to the ground, then a tear, as small as a seed, rolling down his cheek.

He heard something. It was a voice – his voice, deep and hollow. It was saying something. Something he had never heard in person, but thought of often. "The idea," the voice said, slowly and purposely. "The idea that shapes, binds, and defines you."

Thane opened his eyes slowly. As he did, the onset of light rolling in from outside the shuttles windows blinded him slightly. The light seemed to be illuminating his soul from the sheer darkness that was clutching at it. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, and he didn't care. All he knew was that he was now awake, free from the dreams – the nightmares and darkness – that haunted him since his departure from Illium.

Thane closed his eyes again. He could still see the light from behind his closed eyelids, and this comforted him. It was his guardian. But, like all guardians, you feel that they aren't always there to protect you. You know they are only there until you think they don't need them; until you outgrow them. _I need you now, that presence which I cannot put a name to, but know will be there when I awaken in the morning light. May your presence bring that thing I have been searching for. May your presence guide me in my actions and my deeds. May your presence forgive me when I fail. And may your presence always be there if I foolishly cease to believe in you._

Thane once again opened his eyes. Still blinded slightly by the protruding light, he was able to distinguish a few features of the shuttles interior. Thane moved his hand around the seat, trying to find something. He needed to find it. It was the thing that brought him only pain. It was the thing he was asked to bring back with him. He was forced to have it with him at all times – but, like a particular scar you don't like, you are nonetheless bonded with it for life.

Slowly feeling for the object, Thane methodically dragged his hand across the seat, feeling each bump, each dip; each rise, each fall. There was something unsympathetically wholesome about feeling the seat. He moved his hand toward him, and felt the warmth from where he had been lying. He moved his hand away from him, and felt the beastly coldness of the seat; the place to which he had not touched and did not claim to know.

Still lying down, he moved his hand above his head, to the seat next to him. It, too, was cold and detached. He did not want to explore there, but knew he must. Placing his palm on the seat so as to cover more, he searched for it. Starting from what he knew was the left side, he moved his hand to the right. He then felt something. He found it. It had to be it. It was colder than the seat.

Moving his hand around the object so as to grasp it fully, he then, with a flick, knocked it off the chair and to the ground. It was not the clash of the gun hitting the floor that he heard first, but the noise of it falling through the air. The _swoosh_ of the heavy metal breaking through the air at that speed negated any doubt of its properties.

Then the crash came. It hit the ground, and as it did the noises reverberated around the shuttle. There was the _bam_ of the barrel hitting 'head first' onto the identically metal floor. Then came the _crack_ of the thermal clip colliding against the ground. There was another _bam_ as the side of the pistol hit the floor and bounced, followed quickly by one more – one final, absolute and determined _bam_ – as the gun hit its side again, and then went still.

Silence encompassed the shuttle once more, and as it did, Thane felt the intense sensation of darkness surrounding him; the shuttle had gone black. He was now underwater and in the final stages of reaching his destination.

Thane sat up. The only light in the room was from the dim glow of the thermal matter in the clip of his gun. He reached down to grab it, and as he did, once more began to examine the weapon with his fingers, moving them from the barrel to the clip in one swift movement. It was still cold and unforgivably void of emotion – as it always was. _It is just an instrument_, Thane ruminated. _It carries all the significance of Rakhana on the economic scale_. _It is a fly to a human. It is… an arms dealer… to me_.

Thane grasped the handle of the gun and picked it up. He immediately dislodged the thermal clip and examined it. The red light expanding from the clip illuminated the shuttle. But it wasn't the ability to see that immersed Thane; it was the unbelievable warmth he felt from holding the clip. Clutching it tight and closing his eyes, Thane could feel the smooth sensation of fervour melting into his skin and encircling every inch of his person. He felt at peace; not with just himself, but with everything.

Thane took the clip and pressed it against his chest. He thought the feeling exonerated his soul. He could feel everything uncomfortable evaporate before him, leaving him with a sense of wonder and absolute ecstasy. It was a feeling of immense joy and serenity that he knew he would never again feel; the feeling of relief from a painful action that, if repeated again after another said action, would in no way match up to the _first fine careless rapture_. Thane thought the explosion in his head and heart would never be matched again.

This moment of peace and solemnity was cut short as the shuttle rocked slightly and broke his absorption. Thane opened his eyes abruptly, and found himself staring out the window of the shuttle. While it was still dark, the momentum Thane felt revealed to him that the shuttle was ascending from the depths of the Encompassing oceans of Kahje. He was almost home.

Still holding the clip to his chest, Thane sat silently as the brightness of the world above him began to slowly illuminate the inside of the shuttle. Slowly, but surely, the seats and the shelves, the floor and the roof, began to appear before Thane again – just as he thought he was getting used to the darkness, to the silence and the peace that it brought with it.

Thane looked down at the thermal clip he was still holding tightly to his chest, as if to let it go would be an act of betrayal, of dissent on his part. It was still comforting, but with the slow ingress of light, Thane felt the harmony slowly fade before him, bringing the uncertainty and doubt that plagued him once more into clear focus. He wished it would just leave now. Thane grasped the clip even harder, in the vain hope that it would bring back the tranquillity he sought.

But it didn't. The ambiguity and uncertainty continued to grow, and the warmth was helpless to stop it. It was agony to Thane. Why didn't the peace just leave now – instead of slowly torturing him with its slow evaporation? Why would it do this to him?

The light began to glow even more intense, and he could feel the purpose leaving and the meaninglessness creeping up his spine. _Please, leave me in peace_. He seized the clip with both his hands, but it was continuing to fade. _Please, leave me now; not slowly – not like this!_ Thane opened his eyes and stared at the clip, hoping for some unnameable voice to speak to him, to tell him that it would be alright and that the pain he felt growing as the peace was fading was bearable. _But it isn't_.

He had to let go of the clip – let go of it willingly. If he was to face the injustice, let it be him on his own – not clasping like a baby to the last shred of hope he knew was failing and knew would fail him. _Let go, Thane!_ _You have fought, but you have lost – and you know it. Save your strength. Save your self. Thane, let go. Thane, LET GO!_

In one, swift movement, Thane, with both hands still holding the clip, released his grip, and let it fall to the floor.

He screamed.

The loud noise of the clip collapsing to the floor was not audible over the deep cry of Thane. At that moment, Thane felt everything. As he screamed as loud as he could, Thane felt the cry of that little boy he had thought he had forgotten. That boy, who once sought to end all conflict between species, soul, and self, was now before him. As Thane screamed, the boy was trying to say something to him, but he couldn't hear him. The boy, pain in his eyes, was yearning to be heard, to have his last word before he would disappear forever. Thane could see him and looked deep into the boy's eyes as they both hungered for words.

Thane could feel, in that one instant of living, everything he feared and everything he loved. It was a unification – an amalgamation – of body and soul, mind and spirit, pleasure and pain, life and death. In that instant, Thane could feel the clip hit the floor, the vibration echo around the room, and the absorption of the knowledge that he must not mask what he is. But what he was he didn't know – or, at least, not yet. But that innate sense that we are meant to do something – something important, whether it be by your own or anyone else's standards – was before him. Right now, Thane could feel that what he was meant to do was grasp at the unknown, grasp at that feeling of pain, and say, _yes! I am with you, but I am not your slave! I bring with me my ability to conquer you at any moment! I bring with me my ultimate weapon: my ability to feel._ In that instant, Thane felt. He felt purpose and he felt life like he had never experienced it before. _I am here, because I choose to be._

As the last bit of breath escaped him, Thane experienced the immense pressure being lifted. He collapsed onto the chair, and closed his eyes. But in the instant before his eyes fully closed, he saw that young boy, the young Thane Krios, who sought to end conflict, looking back at him with a look of alleviated stress, and smiled at him..

He took a deep breath and felt around on the seat for the gun. He found it, just as the brightness could not get any more vivid, and just as the shuttle rocked again and stopped, signalling his arrival. He placed his head back onto the headrest and opened his eyes.

The light, which a few moments ago scared him, now covered every inch of his being. The guardians had never left him, but, rather, said to him that _we cannot be there to fight the battles you need fight on your own_. The light was his ally. But so was the darkness. You cannot have one without the other, and you cannot use just one nor have a favourite. You can find peace within both.

Thane opened his eyes. The boy he knew was gone. There was another in his place. Thane looked at the drell standing before him.

"Welcome back, Thane," spoke the deep voice of a fellow drell. "How was your mission?"

Thane sat quite still. He could hear the bustling of movement outside the shuttle door and knew he was in the city of Thyyris. He heard the scrambling of people trying to get somewhere quickly, the noises of young children eager to know what was so special about today. Thane heard the soft and polite voices of the Hanar speaking to the children about Nyahir.

"Are you alright?" the person asked gently, taking notice of Thane's silence.

Thane turned to him. "I am fine, Rakir."

Rakir eyed him suspiciously, leaning in to check if Thane was indeed 'fine'. He looked deep into Thane's eyes, and Thane looked right back. After a few moments, the drell straightened up and said, his voice as calm as it ever was. "Well then, you would be wanting to speak with Master."

Thane, still holding the pistol, pushed himself off of the seat and stood up, facing Rakir. "Yes, we have much to discuss. Where is Master?" Thane asked, turning to exit the shuttle.

"He waits for you in the Tower of Quintessence," Rakir replied. "He is ever pleased you survived."

Thane, about to walk out of the shuttle, stopped suddenly, and turned to face Rakir. "Survived?"

"Oh, yes," Rakir responded hesitantly. "You are one of the lucky ones. Some of the others were not so fortunate in getting their target."

Thane turned back towards the exit. He was told that not everyone will get their target. He was told sometimes things will turn ugly. But the cold reality was made ever more real by the fact that he knew everyone in his year, and that, now, he will never see some of them again.

He walked off of the cold metal floor of the shuttle and onto the warm streets of Thyyris. Thane looked up and saw that the sky was still full of clouds. He was not surprised, but after spending a few weeks on Illium, to which the sky was perfectly visible and can see the stars, he would like to one day walk on Kahje and see the star that keeps this planet hospitable.

In the distance, Thane spotted the Tower. Master would be waiting inside, and Thane was right in saying they had much to discuss. He started to make he was towards it when the familiar voice of Rakir spoke to him from back at the shuttle.

"Thane, your thermal clip! Don't you need it?"

Thane turned around and faced Rakir. He looked down at the thermal clip in Rakir's hands for a few seconds, before shifting his gaze to Rakir's face. "No," Thane said solemnly. "No, I don't need it," before he gave a quick bow, and walked away.


	9. Act II: Ch 2: Home Away From Home

**Chapter 2: Home Away From Home**

* * *

><p>As he looked around, Thane suddenly realised just how much had changed since the last time he was here. After the chilling maw of the shuttle compartment, the relatively temperate air of Thyyris was as welcome as a warm embrace from Kalahira herself. Thane breathed deeply and started on his way, taking in every detail as he walked. Kahje was a jewel of a world, a rich diversity of wildlife and an ability to sustain far more than it actually had. Perhaps reflecting on its primary inhabitants, Kahje was a world built for learning, understanding and balance. The very air around Thane seemed to brim with care and thought. He couldn't help but smile as he gazed at the unique beauty of Thyyris; the grand walkways made from blazing white stone, soft blue and lavender trees which relinquished their leaves to the light wind, giving the impression that Thane was in a city under water, with no water at all. Archways and statues made from the same white stone, so blindingly white it made it hard for Thane to look directly at it; however if one was to try hard enough, the beauty of the craftsmanship shone brighter than the stone ever could. Reaching a viewing platform on the apex of a hill, Thane paused to admire the sight before him. The rest of Thyyris sprawled invitingly ahead of him, a true monument to the way of life on Kahje; endless promenades encircling every natural detail of the landscape, vast monuments to generations past, thanking them for their gifts to the Hanar cause, towers stretching like golden lances towards the heavens, as if expressing the desire to reach and understand more than what was within its grasp. It was a city for the greatest of the galaxy, and it applied less pressure than the light blue petals drifting past Thane's head. After the asphyxiating air of Illium, Thane felt another tear roll down his face, and he then realised: Kahje hadn't changed at all. He had..<p>

Drell were especially attached to Kahje, and not just because the weather complimented their semi-arid bodies. Many generations ago the drell home world of Rakhana had become grossly overpopulated, and its resources were all but exhausted. In the case of other species like Humans, when their home world was overburdened with numbers they were able to colonise other worlds and acquire further sustenance for their people. Not the case with the drell.

Their limited technological advances kept them firmly planted on the dirt of their cradle world, while all around them horrifying wars erupted over what little resources were left. Thane's own race slaughtered themselves over scraps of food and drops of water, all sense of pride and dignity forgotten in the wake of looming extinction. It was a well known fact to all drell that their race had come close to destruction; and Thane was among many that believed their race _had_ died on Rakhana. The thought of his own people fighting like mindless beasts over the most immaterial not only opposed everything he had trained for, but had imbued him with a deep sense of shame; shame that a race once so proud, his race, could be reduced to the level of the beast that Thane would spend his life removing from the galaxy.

But this was a well-healed wound for Thane, something the Hanar had addressed and tempered long before his first mission. Every drell was aware of what had transpired, and many felt the same way as Thane did. It was a small addition to the Compact that drell children must be educated as to how and why their race failed. _Understanding is a hunger_, the Hanar would say. _When we are young we do not know what hunger is, we just desire it to be satisfied, no matter the means. But once we reach a certain age, we must be taught what hunger is, and the best ways to satisfy it. Hunger can be eased either with healthy or unhealthy food. Unhealthy food is always tempting, and is usually the easiest to acquire. It goes down well and for a short while, leaves you feeling satisfied. But too much unhealthy food will eventually turn on you, without hesitation. Healthy food, on the other hand, is not always simple to prepare or consume. It can be harder to swallow and may not feel satisfying at all when we eat, but in the long run we will know that the food we ate will never turn on us. Understanding or knowledge is a mind hunger, and we are not aware of this until we are told. Whilst before you wanted to know whatever made you happy, now you must know whatever will make you Whole_.

The walkway cut a swathe through the towering examples of thought and reason around him, leading Thane onwards to his goal: the Tower of Quintessence. All around him, there were individuals from every species in council space. Asari, Turians, Salarians, even Humans; many no doubt on their first visit to Kahje due to their unabashed amazement at the sight before them. They gazed with mouths open at the splendour of civilisation that stretched as far as the eye could see, though Thane could not blame them for it. He himself had the same reaction when he first began to explore the promenades and walkways of the city. The many fountains which spun the crystal clear waters of Kahje in impossible loops, twirls and helixes, were surrounded by people with children. Drell children were among the many species that frolicked between the streams of liquid spinning through the air. Thane had known for a long time that the fountains used concentrated gravity to control the flow of water, but to these children it may as well have been magic. He slowed in his walk, staring intently at the children, as the water caught the rays of the sun and glistened like floating crystal. For a moment, Thane became envious of the innocence that existed in these children. To still be able to believe in magic was something so simple but so unbelievably complex. Many of the children were not much younger than Thane, but they may as well have been on the other side of the galaxy, for all their similarities to the drell watching them.

The thought of innocence stirred the tempered despair he had felt in the shuttle, and Thane was forced to stop in his tracks, ignoring the annoyed remarks of the people behind him. He closed his eyes and fought off the wave of blackness that had settled in his mind since Stern had died. _There will be time to make these thoughts known_ he cautioned himself, _I must not let the thoughts of beasts become my own. I cannot. "Thane! Your thermal clip! Don't you need it?" _Rakir had asked._ No, I had said. _He focused his thoughts on his own moment of clarity, when he had been able to relinquish the need for artificial warmth in favour of Kahje itself. He found the darkness faltering, and felt relief wash over him at his own small victory. With that, he opened his eyes, and the blinding white of Thyyris assailed his vision. Almost lost in the blackness, Thane blinked several times to welcome in the sights and sounds of the world around him; the playful laughter near the fountains, the light breeze carrying lavender and blue, the white street of clean and precise direction at his feet. All were still here and had not even noticed Thane had stopped walking.

As he continued on his way, with a renewed sense of confidence, Thane became aware of his own ignorance from when he first arrived. All he had seen and heard so far, all that had blissfully continued to be while he had almost fallen under the weight of his own doubt, had _always_ been here. Indeed, Kahje hadn't changed at all.


	10. Act II: Ch 3: Avowed Vigilante

**Chapter 3: Avowed Vigilante**

* * *

><p>The dull blue lights of the dropship reflected off the polished armour worn by the twenty Blue Suns troopers. They sat in silence as the hold rocked back and forth in the turbulent air, all eyes lowered to the floor, all minds set for the same purpose. Sitting closest to the bay door was Sergeant Zera, a human who, for the first time in a long while, was supremely concerned. His eyes travelled from the specks of dirt on the floor to the opposite porthole, and the purple spires of Illium that whisked past.<p>

Zera always welcomed the challenge of risky operations, the riskier the better; it broke up the monotony of the base on Omega and kept his team sharp. But this was different. Risk came with the job of working for the Blue Suns, no question. And it wasn't even the job itself that worried him, so much the reason why they had been sent in the first place. It was a rare occurrence that an entire team was sent for a Recovery and Recon mission; it was rarer still that an operation led by the Commander needed recovery at all.

The move against Tiberius Stern had been at the forefront of their operations in Omega for several weeks. With constant fighting under the radar between the various gangs, the Blue Suns needed a more stable outpost to help run their myriad of tasks. Naturally, the Commander was the first choice to spearhead such an significant project, and it had all gone off without a hitch right up to now. Zera's team, and others like it, were supposed to move in upon Stern's death and assume the role of security while the Blue Suns formally took over his network. They had been called in off schedule, and as far as Zera was aware, the Commander hadn't been heard from.

The dropship lurched suddenly; the deceleration caught Zera by surprise and he grasped the railing above his head to keep from falling off his seat. Looking out the porthole again, he saw the streets of Illium rise into view as the dropship slowly descended. With a reverberating thud, Zera felt the floor settle onto something solid and unslung his rifle from his back. Behind him, he heard his men do the same.

The roar of the engines died down slightly, as the red light above the bay door winked on and off. Finally, it turned green and the large door hissed open, letting in the warm air of Illium. The instant the ramp touched the ground, Zera jogged down and examined his surroundings. They were in the middle of a wide avenue, with tall buildings on all sides and not a soul in sight. This was where the final part of the operation was supposed to take place; where Stern and his advisors should have been killed. Zera raised a closed fist, then after a moment, held his hand flat and vertical, gesturing forwards; the signal to move out in a close formation. His men complied instantly, combing the street and alleyways in tight groups, weapons raised.

Zera stood by the ramp as the dropship shutdown its engines, glancing around at the balconies above him. He had always been taught to mind his surroundings, and if there was a welcoming committee, that's where they would be hiding. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next as he examined the far side of the street.

"Over here!" one of his men called from around the corner.

Zera hurried over to the source of the voice, his anticipation giving fuel to his strides. Time to find out what's going on, he thought to himself. Rounding the corner, he saw the bodies of three men close by, most likely Stern's advisors from the way they were dressed. Further down the street, Zera saw a group of his men crowded around two more inert figures. He jogged to them and forced them aside.

One of them was Tiberius Stern, clearly dead, with a gunshot wound to the temple. His eyes were closed, and his body seemed to have been almost ceremoniously positioned, with hands on chest and legs straightened out. Confused by this, Zera was even more surprised when his gaze fell to the man next to him. It was the Commander.

He had been shot in the throat, and blood had pooled all around him. The wound appeared to be no more than a few hours old, but it was nonetheless remarkable Gannicus had survived at all. Dropping to one knee next to him, he could hear the faint, wheezing breaths of the Commander, indicating there was still time. He turned to the man next to him and barked his orders.

"You! And you! Get a stretcher from the dropship! Establish comms immediately with the other teams and tell them we've found the Commander and we need a medic five minutes ago!"

The men nodded and rushed off to the ship.

"The rest of you set up a perimeter. Nobody gets into this street, not even Illium Security. If they try to press the matter, kill them. We need time to get the Commander out of here, and then we disappear."

He looked down at Gannicus again.

"If all goes well, he should be fine... and he'll have a lot of explaining to do."


	11. Act II: Ch 4: Scientiam Intellectus

**Chapter 4: Scientiam et Intellectus**

* * *

><p>The huge Voluntas Plaza was a marvel amongst the marvellous, a kilometre wide circular disc of white stone, blue petals, golden arches and spectacular statues commemorating the individuals who had a hand in building the three titanic spires which towered over them. The Plaza was the cultural and spiritual centre of Thyyris; reflecting the bright sunlight of the day outwards on the rest of the city, glowing like a beacon of perfection in the middle of a city which as closely defined the word as any city could. It was here that Thane wished to go; more specifically, the Tower of Quintessence.<p>

Voluntas Plaza was the basis for the three great towers of the Hanar spiritual way of life. As he walked, Thane saw to his left the emerald and white Tower of Scientiam; to his right, the ruby and white Tower of Intellectus. They were mirror images of each other, with golden ridges crisscrossing their surfaces, records of Hanar history carved into the walls and plates of crystal reflecting yet more light onto the massed crowds below. These two sister spires were completely dedicated to the teaching and spreading of Hanar wisdom to whomever desired it. Thane himself had spent many years learning exactly that in these very towers, always within sight of the central tower and the place where he had always felt he belonged.

Quintessence was every bit as colourful and grand as its two sisters, but it radiated with the glow of prominence that only those like Thane could see. As a young child looks upon its home after a long time away, or as a weary traveller gazes upon their world for the first time in years, the Tower of Quintessence held a beauty beyond the visible realm. Its sapphire-encrusted spires and gold ornaments were only at the surface to what this monolith represented to individuals like Thane. This was the end and the beginning personified in stone and iron, shining like a lance of wonder in the midday sun. The pinnacle of the Hanar spirit, and purest form of what it was to be Whole. Quintessence, simply put, was what Thane had hoped to reach his whole life.

Thane realized he had been walking as if on autopilot, too concerned with the significance of where he was to worry about such mundane things as the placement of his feet. Checking his position in the thick crowd, he navigated his way as only he could; ducking and weaving like water through rocks towards the huge glass doors which beckoned him closer, marking the entrance to his home. As he emerged from the thicket of people and ascended the white stone steps towards the atrium entrance, Thane saw his reflection in the glass doors, mimicking his every move. He paused for a moment in front of the door, looking intently at the mirror image of himself, already standing inside the tower. He smiled to himself at the thought and pushed the doors open, which slid silently apart and allowed him to enter the atrium.

The noise from the bustling plaza outside was instantly muted and replaced by a quiet electronic hum. Thane's footsteps echoed off the marble walls and travelled hundreds of metres upward, to where the atriums roof welcomed in the bright light of the sun and showered its warmth upon the people below. Coloured glass panes moved and shifted slowly above the ground and sent a rainbow of soft beams across the floor. As a young child, Thane remembered times when he would chase the spots of red and blue around the atrium, laughing and determined to catch the intangible colours in front of him; he never could. Rising from reverie once again, he continued on his way. There was no need to ask for directions or consult a guide; Thane knew exactly where he was going. He had been recounting his last visit here for the past day, and wondering how different the journey would be this time around, with the weight of success heavy on his conscience.

It was very, VERY different.

**-/\/\/\/\/\/\**_**-**_

"...I'm telling you, we missed something. Or to be more specific, HE missed something."

"But that's just it: How the hell could he have missed ANYTHING on that assignment? If there was ever a time to not fuck things up, it was the Illium job!"

"Don't ask me for details, all I did was clean up his mess for him. Figuring out how he fucked up may be satisfying, but it sure as hell isn't going to be me doing the work."

The docking bay of the Blue Suns frigate _Opportunist_ was quite large by frigate standards, and Sergeant Zera's footsteps echoed unusually loudly in the open space. The contingent of Blue Suns troopers who would normally greet him and his squad were conspicuously absent, all having been sent hastily planet-side to pick up the pieces of Stern's empire. While this did not bother Zera, he did manage a twinge of annoyance that so much importance was being placed on the Commander's wellbeing.

If it had been _him_ that had botched the operation, the recovery team most likely would have put five rounds in his head and left him on the street. But of course, it wasn't some nameless Sergeant, it was the all-mighty _Commander_ that was down there, so they couldn't possibly let anything happen to him could they? Zera scowled at the thought.

"Most of the medical team were sent ahead, seems they're pretty worried about him." Corporal Tanner said.

Zera smirked, "Doesn't take a team of medics to work out that he's probably fucked. Fixing a neck wound isn't rocket science, but he's been down there like that for who knows how long."

Tanner looked up at him, clearly seeing the contempt in Zera's face.

"You don't really give a shit if he lives or not, do you?" he asked.

Zera shrugged.

"Honestly, it makes no difference to me, Tanner. If he dies, then there's going to be some serious shifts in rank around here, and I'm only going to benefit from it. If he lives, well then I get credit for finding him in time and he owes me a favour. It's a win-win."

Tanner didn't respond for a moment, but he looked impressed.

"Glad to see you're on top of things like always, boss."

"As if you expected anything less," Zera replied with a nod.

With that, he dismissed the rest of his squad to their quarters, and the two men remaining made their way to the medical wing. _One way or another_, Zera thought to himself, _you're going to be useful for a change, Gannicus_.


	12. Act II: Ch 5: A Necessary Contradiction

**Chapter 5: A Necessary Contradiction**

* * *

><p>The streets and promenades of Thyyris sped away from him as the lift ascended. Thane watched in silence as the tranquillity of the surface gave way to the brooding, heavy air at the peak of Quintessence. He nervously checked the clasps on his overcoat, smoothing out the creases from his cramped commute on the shuttle. He refused to let any part of his appearance cause a disservice to the impending encounter. Such attention to detail was expected in every aspect of Thane's behaviour, but secretly he also knew there was more to it than nerves.<p>

Thane pulled his sleeves symmetrically taut and looked out the glass to the anthill of activity far below him. This time however, there was no contemplation of meaning or inquisitive inspection of people or places. All that was running through Thane's mind was his appearance and the meeting ahead. It was as if by the very nature of where he was, his thoughts and focus no longer rested on the world, but on the space in which he stood. All that lay beyond the glass he stared through was of no consequence. Thane did not resist the pressure on his thoughts; he knew he had to embrace the change.

With the pleasant distractions of Thyyris shunted away, he found himself focusing on what had been wrestling around in his mind since he had left Illium. The black fog of doubt which he had fought off so far still weighed heavily in the back of his mind, and Thane was cautious to even prod at it, lest it rear up and seize his throat once again. He knew he would have to face it at some point, but as much as it irked his pride, Thane felt he would be more secure doing so while in the company of Master. _As a child rushes to its parent when it cuts its finger, _he thought, a twinge of shame jabbing at his stomach. He focused his mind, ready to test his own capability to resist the wave of despair. The fog coiled, almost voicing a challenge to Thane, who backed off quickly. He could not risk falling into the abyss yet, it was too important to lose sight of the information he was about to deliver.

Suddenly, a fresh doubt arose in his mind, something that he had dismissed earlier as unimportant. But now given the focus and energy, he realised the implications of such a dilemma. How much exactly should Thane divulge to Master? What details of the mission should be given? Should the Blue Suns' involvement be mentioned? And what about the conversation he had with Stern?

For his first mission alone, it had certainly not been straightforward or by-the-book in any way. True, the information on Stern available to them was limited, given the nature of his empire, but it hardly seemed possible that so much had been missed. Thane could not believe Master would have sent him on a mission if he had known the potential hornets nest he could be displacing. Mercenary groups like the Blue Suns were not to be taken lightly. They had controlling interests in many planetary governments and galaxy-wide corporations. Many fingers in many pies, as Master would put it.

_No, Master would never risk such dangers on us under any circumstances. It had to be some sort of hole in the information we had, _Thane reasoned. _I've been involved in, and most likely blamed for, the death of one of their best Commanders. I have painted a target on my back which could jeopardise every future assignment I am sent on. But... despite the danger... perhaps this is something only I can resolve. If I drag the rest of my brothers and sisters into this they could spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders, living in fear. At least if I die trying to set this right, they will not be casualties in my war._

The lift continued its upwards climb, and though Thane continued to stare out of the window, he was oblivious to the enamelled blue sky and golden rays of sunlight that poured onto Voluntas Plaza below. It made sense to Thane, and the idea of sacrificing himself for the safety of his comrades was not an unfamiliar one. What did stand in the way of this was the idea of lying outright to Master, and deliberately laying out information that could have huge repercussions for Thane's future assignments. This was a very dangerous path to take, and it had been addressed by the Hanar as such. But despite this, Thane couldn't help remembering something else which the Hanar had said:

_It seems a paradox that we encourage Wholesomeness, but at the same time discourage the fostering of regret when it comes to killing; but it is a necessary contradiction. In every being's life there will be a struggle to achieve Wholesomeness. A battle of the inner self will take place which tests the individual's ability to recognise that being Whole is not the same as being complete. Body, soul and mind must be as one to achieve Wholesomeness. But the decisions we make will always affect body, soul and mind differently. To be Whole, you all must be prepared to do what is necessary for the good of this galaxy. If the mind wants what the body cannot tolerate, or the body desires what the soul cannot abide, that is not Wholesomeness. You have to recognise that some things MUST be done, and your body, soul and mind must recognise this as well. When you can teach your body, soul and mind to believe in the necessity of every task placed before you without hesitation, you have achieved Wholesomeness._

Those last words had echoed through Thane's mind long after he had heard them, and it seemed strange that it had taken so long for him to remember them. He was glad they had returned to him when they did. He knew what he had to do now, and his mind and soul was telling him the same thing. Though it went against his judgement, his instincts were telling him the way to where he wanted to be. And as he had been taught for years, things which must be done MUST be done, no matter what.

So he made the decision then and there. If the Blue Suns chose to pursue, he would deal with them himself, and in so doing, protect the safety of his comrades. It felt wrong to lie, but when considering the lives he would save, it felt right.

It felt _right_.


	13. Act II: Ch 6: The Obscure & the Obvious

**Chapter 6: The Obscure and the Obvious**

* * *

><p>Thane stood still for what seemed like decades. The lift had landed on the top floor and the doors were already open. But, still, Thane stood, stoically recalling his last thoughts. He knew that the lift had arrived at Master's library; he knew very well the doors were open, but he waited. Every inch of being, every feeling, every bit of blood coursing through his body resonated heavily on his chest. The time had arrived and Thane knew that the actions he would take now would shape his future; not only as an assassin, but as a drell – as a living being. It made him feel empowered, but, at the same time, unsure. Empowered that he had control over the situation; but unsure, as a child, having learnt to play a musical instrument to perfection in solitude, is still unsure that they will deliver the performance they had practiced in front of an audience.<p>

It annoyed him. He had learnt the instrument, practised and trained every day, and yet when it came to deliverance, he felt uneasy. He didn't think that it was possible, this feeling of anxiety. It was Master he was going to talk to. _Master_. He spoke with Master almost on a daily bases before being shipped to Omega. _This is just a usual consult_, Thane told himself.

But this isn't going to be 'just a usual consult', he recognised. Master would want to know how the job went. Master would pick up his dishonesty. Master would recognise his awkwardness. Master would diligently probe Thane if he knew he was omitting something. Master was good at that. He would attempt to grasp that which Thane wanted to keep in the shadows. And he always got it.

He had told himself it was right. _And it is, isn't it?_ To exclude bits of information that, if known, would cause problems, would be a good thing. It's nobody's business but his. He would take care of it. He'd better take care of it. _Besides, what is the worst thing that could happen?_ Thane asked himself. _Nothing big_, he reasoned. _Blue Suns have never appeared to be as aggressive in comparison to the blunt instrument ideology of the Blood Pack. They dealt in infiltration and espionage, something Thane could understand and counter effectively, and also quietly. Stern invoked the wrath of the Blue Suns. Stern was dead. There is nothing to investigate._

Thane was just about to walk out of the lift when the thought hit him. He suddenly remembered a conversation he had with Master a few days before deployment. Master had said to be mindful in the face of fault. _Whoever said that there is an easy path is wrong. There is never an easy path to take, Thane. There is the desirable and there is the diligent. The desirable is always the route that seems most preferable. It is the easiest path that reaps the most rewards that is mostly taken. It is the fundamental state of nature: less work, more reward. Notice I said 'easiest', Thane? Not 'easy'. They are different. The 'easiest' path is still hard. In terms of difficulty, it is, shall we say, 'the lesser of two evils'. But this path is never an option – at least not for you Thane, or your peers. It is the path of diligence, the path of conscientiousness, which you must take. It may not reap the greatest rewards and it may take more effort to reach, but it is the goal on the diligent path that is most important. It is important because diligence demands complete acceptance. Do you understand, Thane? I will show you._

_Take a human. Their existence, while not nearly as old as your race or mine, has been one of gluttony and insatiability. They have taken the path of desirability; the path that has acquired the most rewards with the least amount of effort. The results? Over their short history, it is filled with violence, suffering, and elitism. While they reached a goal, whether it be political, social, or economical, they did so without the diligence needed to sustain the intended goal. What erupted was more violence, suffering, and elitism. What would have happened if humanity had taken the diligent path? Well, attempts were made, Thane. The Renaissance, the Enlightenment – excellent examples of hard work, ingenuity and acceptance. But it was over as soon as it began. Humanity's base instincts kicked back in._

_Their goals, reached through diligence, came with acceptance that what they had achieved was achieved with the very hardest of work. Any faults, any burdens, any errors that came with the diligent path was accepted knowing that what they had done was the best they could do. Through the desirable path, any faults, burdens or errors that appeared, appeared because they were looking only at what they would be rewarded with, no matter the consequences – and there were a lot of consequences._

_Through diligence, you need not care for the rewards, only the acceptance that the goal – whether it was achieved or not – was attempted with nothing in mind but the greatest attempt to achieve perfection. Do you see now, Thane? Diligence demands the acceptance that your work, whether it had achieved what it wanted you to achieve, was done knowing you did your best. You will accept the consequences of your actions, but there won't be as many. This is vital to your work. Follow diligence, and you will be rewarded with earned integrity, honesty, and truth. If you wish to be a malingerer, then take the desirable path. But do not complain when everything around you falls apart._

Thane had taken every step along the diligent path. He knew of no other path. At least, he thought he did. His mission was a success. Stern was eliminated. But Thane still felt that growing sensation of fault in him. He still felt the undeniable presence of accountability. If there are still consequences when taking the diligent path, are these feeling the consequences? He didn't know. He didn't want to know. What he had felt after shooting Stern, what he had felt in the shuttle, was still with him. _It shouldn't_, Thane said brutally to himself. _I did my job. Stern is gone. That should be enough._

Thane, who had been looking at his shoes for the entire time, lifted his head and observed the large hallway that was in front of him. Packed with books upon books, Thane could not help but feel rather claustrophobic. Walking out of the lift, Thane felt uneasy as the mountains of literature of every race, written in every language ever known in the universe, peered down at him leaving the lift. Thane closed his eyes. He would not allow himself to feel anxious. He would not allow himself to feel at all. Master would want an as objective recount as possible. All of his mentors did.

He took a deep breath and began to make his way down the hallway. As he made his way closer to the vestibule overlooking Thyyris, he started to hear humming. It was a soft, gentle humming coming from just overhead. Thane looked up, and saw that a hatch into the roof was open. Looking at the vestibule, he saw nothing but a chair and a table. Looking back up the hatch, he saw that there emitted a bright, luminescent light. He saw that it was a purple light, mixed with green. It was Master.

Thane knew never to interrupt Master while he was up there – even if you had been invited to this floor. To do so would make Master rather irritable; a sight which was most unpleasant and very out of character. He would wait for Master to finish up there before engaging in discussion. This suited Thane just fine, although he often wondered what Master was doing up there. No drell had ever been up there, and, to the best of his knowledge, neither had another Hanar. When he was younger, Thane and his classmates often joked about what Master did up there. They had concluded that it was a secret laboratory in which Master made some form of chemical that makes the Hanar so polite. They joked that if the Hanar were off the liquid, then their bodies' luminescence would dim and they would start acting like violent Krogans.

Thane dismissed this memory and walked further on, onto the balcony. A soft wind greeted him as he stepped foot onto the marble, jewel-encrusted floor. Sitting on the chair, Thane closed his eyes once more and just listened to the wind blowing. The sounds of the people on the ground below were not audible. He was so high up that he could hear nothing but the wind, whispering softly in his ears as the feeling of warmth encompassed him whole. It calmed him.

It was not long before the humming became louder. Thane stood upright immediately and turned around. Before him was Master, hovering lightly off the ground.

"I walk calmly through the world of seas and sand; I see in me that power to shift the world; But I see in myself the pain it can cause; For I am not only a mere mortal, but the embodiment of spirit and sun," Thane said, his voice low, his stance firm.

Master stepped onto the balcony and next to the chair Thane was sitting in.

"I bring news, Master," Thane spoke again. "It is most pleasant," he added.

Master did not reply, but Thane knew better than to ramble. To erect a wall of words hastily was to signal a desire for silence. Master would see this clearly, and seize upon Thane's awkwardness. He knew he must maintain his outer confidence and not become caught in the snare of guilty claws. Such was a conversation with Master; an intellectual game of chess played which allowed Master twice the pieces and three times the moves as his opposite. It was both maddening and humbling at the same time. But the lengthening silence was wearing away at his resolve to remain so. The longer the exchange lasted, Thane feared, the easier it would be for Master to examine and uncover what he had been concealing. A sudden clash began in Thane's mind, between his better judgement and his crumbling resolve. Eventually, he could endure the tacit presence of Master pressing on his consciousness no longer, and he continued to speak.

"I spent my time on Illium well; I left no stone unturned in the search for details on Tiberius Stern's every movement and the particulars with every fracture in his empire. I have used every tool that was given to me, and implemented every lesson that was taught to me. Through subtlety and reasoning, I managed to discern the most guarded secrets of Stern's troubled existence, and he never saw me coming. I say to you now, Master, Tiberius Stern has seen his last sunrise, and has met his end upon my hands"

Ceremoniously, Thane placed the very pistol in question upon the podium between them. It had not been used or interfered with in any way since the deed, and it would remain so until Master sent him on a new assignment. Thane looked up at Master again with pride.

"I have done all that was required of me, and more."

Still Master did not reply. As the silence continued to resonate between them, Thane found himself becoming more and more agitated. _What are you trying to communicate to me by not communicating? Why would you send for me if you are just going to continue to stare off into the distance and ignore my success?_ An almost child-like feeling of resentment reared up in his chest, threatening to form into spoken words which would only help to convince Master that something was wrong.

Thane struggled to control his emotions, realising that having such inner strife was the last thing he needed at this moment. He attempted to suppress the resentment he was still feeling and refocus on Master, who had not moved since Thane arrived. The effort was met with no reply, and as Thane was about to turn on his heel and leave in frustration, Master finally spoke.

"You never know what is enough, until you know what is more than enough, Thane."

Master's voice was slow and rhythmical, and carried an air of elegance and grace (as it always did). The large figure of Master belied the clarity of his wisdom. Master always spoke when he needed to; never too much, never too little. Thane stood quite still, trying to understand the sentence Master had just spoken.

However, before his mind could grasp it, Master spoke again.

"I am always wary of a student who claims to have achieved everything required of him. What the galaxy requires from all of us is not something that can be written down, explained or understood without contemplation. I may give you a mission to accomplish, with my own expectations accompanying the task, but what I have taught you is that Wholesomeness transcends evaluation, approval and pride. You must contemplate more than you can possibly imagine to earn the right to say you have achieved all that is required of you. The world you entered when you began your mission, and the world you leave behind are different because of _every_ action you took. Did you talk to people? Did you help a person in need? Did you stop wrongdoing? Did you shove someone on the street?

"Every action you took has a reaction that is every bit as important as the completion of your task. Look at it not from your point of view, but from the galaxy as a whole. Stern is one life, as is every individual on Illium. He may have died, but so did many others on the same day, on the same world, at the same time. All of those are lives equally as valid as each other to the galaxy. You have no doubt considered the benefits of Stern's death, as have I. But have you considered the effects of your actions on every single person you influenced while accomplishing your mission? Will they take your charity to heart? Or will they squander it? Will a life you may have saved have a positive effect on these worlds, or will it bring about destruction?

"You say you have achieved everything required of you. I say how can you achieve what you do not understand? The answer is you cannot. But now I ask you, Thane. I give you the opportunity to present your reasoning. Have you earned the right to say it? Have you really considered the different world you created during your time on Illium? The lives you altered and the effect you have had on the galaxy? Tell me now how you achieved this self-professed "Wholesomeness". Hindsight may be perfect, but actions rarely are."

Thane was momentarily stunned. The idea that Master had picked apart the very things which had been bothering him since Illium deeply unsettled his outer confidence. What he had hoped to avoid discussing was now on the table for all to see, open for examination and desperately vulnerable to Master's inquisitive eye. But Thane knew better than to become defensive. He realised that, despite how close Master had come to the core of the issue, he had not seized it yet. He had one chance to regain his footing and steer the conversation into calmer waters.

"You are right, Master. I have not earned that right. Forgive my presumptions, I was mistaking pride for merit, and chose my words poorly. Allow me to correct my error and not tarnish the completion of my mission with hollow platitudes."

Master gazed at Thane intently as he spoke, though he could not tell what was running through the mind of his mentor. Thane did not relish the idea of concealing things from him; quite the contrary. He had always been taught that honesty, especially when it came to difficult matters, was essential for countering the various side effects of assassination missions, such as guilt, anger and doubt. But more than that, the idea of lying outright to someone who was as close to a father as Thane had ever known, did not sit well with his conscience.

However, he knew he could not waver from his position. _Things which must be done MUST be done, no matter the personal conflicts it may cause,_ Thane told himself once again. Feeling his confidence rise slightly, Thane refocused his attention on Master, who had been observing him silently for a full minute after he had finished speaking. As if to give physical form to one of Master's philosophies, his words were few and far between, but they always had a purpose; no breath was wasted.

"There is no need for long-winded apologies, Thane" he finally said. "You know better than to repeat an error of magnitude as I know better than to think otherwise."

Thane exhaled, he had not betrayed the lie yet.

Master continued, "There is a certain allowance to be given at this point, considering the context of where we stand and what you have achieved. Your first successful mission and the idea of a man like Tiberius Stern put to rest is heartening news for all of us. Therefore, I am aware that you may be feeling a certain sense of personal accomplishment which I understand. However, given the context of where we stand and what you have achieved, there is a certain amount of caution which must also be considered."

Thane nodded, "I understand, Master. I realise that significance must be placed not on the action, but the context in which it is performed. What I should deem important is not that I accomplished the deed, but that the deed was accomplished at all."

"Very good, Thane. As I thought, you have not forgotten what we taught you. And for that I am greatly relieved. Now, please join me inside and we can discuss the particulars of your mission, I am eager to hear how you so proficiently manoeuvred your way through Stern's empire, as you put it."

Master turned around slowly, with a grace that was both befitting and gently satisfying for Thane to watch. As Master made his way inside, Thane followed unhurriedly behind him, not quite sure if he would be able to conceal the facts he wanted to hide from Master, considering the conversation they just had on the balcony. He felt something inside him growing that did not have the conviction he had when entering the Tower to mask the truth. When around Master, Thane felt the need to be honest and truthful. Master's essence, which was embodied in the truest form of the honesty and veracity Thane was so desperate to negate, made it seem impossible to ever conceive of lying to Master. _But it is necessary_, Thane told himself. _If one or two lies, no matter how great or small, can help not only end the suffering that is present before me, but the problems it will cause others in the future, is it not worth it?_

Turning left, Thane followed Master into a room accompanying the study. It was a room Master often described as for "gentle communicative discussion", but Thane and his peers knew was for so much more. Master would often spend days at a time locked in this room, contemplating what was so evident as thoughts Master would never share with any other being in the galaxy. When they were younger, Thane's classmates used to joke that if you were to spend a day in the room, thinking what Master envisaged, your head would explode. Thane never shared the view of this joke, and, to be honest, it was what made him so different from his contemporaries. Thane never joked about Master. He had only the highest respect for him and his race, which saved his own from almost certain extinction.

His classmates also had respect for Master, but not almost in the same intensity and spirit which Thane had. Thane always listened to every word Master spoke with the utmost passion. He had never shared all of Master's views, often voicing his disagreements in class, which led to a wealthy exchange of intellectual discussion that Master always welcomed. But Master had always said that it was not his job or wish to make his pupils think like him. They must form their own opinions and reflect on them often, articulating them and always expressing them respectfully. _I will not teach you how to think_, Master once spoke. _You must teach yourselves how to think_.

The room was lit well from the surrounding circular windows, letting in the light and showing a view of utmost beauty – of Thyyris' markets, cultural centres, and other Tower's. The reflected light from the water in the distance glistened, which gleamed brightly and temporarily blinded Thane. The flags and banners on the other Towers could be seen from even this distance, draped over the side of the buildings. They were coloured multiple blue-cyan-type colours, but mostly azure and cerulean, which made the Towers seem, visually, like they were bleeding a violently magnificent blue. It was as if the beauty of what the Towers represented – honesty, philosophy, sincerity and honour – could not be contained, and started to seep from the pores of the structure, wrapping it in a sheath of pure blue harmony.

There was only one seat inside the room. Master, who had no need nor the physical capacity to sit, only allowed one other person in the room at the time – and the seat was there if need be, next to a table holding an empty glass and a jug of freshly collected water from the Valley of the Tender Beast. Thane had only been in here twice before. The first time was when he met Master at the age of six at the beginning of the Compact, where he was told that he would study under him for the remainder of his education. The second time was only a few months ago, six years later, when he was given his task to assassinate Tiberius Stern on Illium.

It seemed rather tragic to Thane that he would be entering this room for the third time, with a goal so distinctly different from the contexts of the first two times. The first time: to begin becoming an assassin. The second time: to begin the journey of his first assassination. The third time: to lie.

Thane had never seen a future where he would need to disguise the details of his first assassination to the being that made all of it possible. Master had never glorified the art of assassination. He had never held it as some life experience that must be done at least once. On no occasion had Master ever held the conviction that he was teaching his pupils something which must be idolized or regarded highly because it is a 'rare treat' to take a life. No, Thane never fantasised assassinating someone. It would be crude and unwelcomely disrespectful to the Hanar, as they see it as a duty to be respected, not worshiped. But he had been excited to put everything he had learned to the test and do the universe a favour by helping balance the battle of diligence and desire. He had been excited to come to Master with the news that what he had been taught was not put to waste, and that he hoped he had made Master, the Hanar, and the spirit of the Compact proud. Thane had never seen this coming.

Master beckoned Thane to sit down. Though purely coincidental, the time of day made the sunlight shine through the windows and illuminate the chair more brightly than the rest of the room. Thane had the feeling that sitting down in the direct light would make him feel like he was on trial, and that the light would expose the secrets he was so desperate to hide. Nonetheless, to avoid suspicion, Thane sat down.

Master turned to him, and Thane did feel that for the moment he was indeed on trial. Master did not speak though. None spoke for more than thirty seconds. Thane thought it felt like the longest thirty seconds of his life. The only thing Thane appreciated in this moment, that made it easier, was the fact that the silence in the room couldn't mask the noises that were happening outside. When on the balcony, Thane heard nothing but the gentle wind. In this particular room, although soft, the excited noises from the crowd below, eager for the Nyahir celebrations to begin, could be heard. Thane wondered what could make this room so perceptive to the noises below. Nonetheless, Thane wanted to say something to break the silence this was present in the room right now. It was at that moment that, thankfully, Master broke the silence for him.

"What you have done, Thane, has taken strength," Master spoke gently. "Strength does not come from physical capacity, but personal conviction – of indomitable will. What we have taught you led you to the path, but it is you who walked on it and completed it."

Thane felt the warm feeling of contentment growing in him. Master always had the ability of making someone feel welcome and happy. All Hanar spoke with politeness, so anyone new to communication with them might not be able to tell the difference between simple polite statements and actual compliments. But anyone who had spent extended periods of time with them, as many drell have (and Thane especially), can tell when they are being genuinely honest in their praise. Master was one who did not give compliments often – and when he did, it was when someone truly deserved it. It was this that made Thane's feelings at this time so welcome.

"But you haven't completed the path, have you?" Master spoke once more.

Thane, who had gazed out the window in his moment of serenity, hearing this last statement instantly turned his head and glanced at Master. "By whatever do you mean, Master?" Thane asked softly. "Are you eliciting an opinion that Stern is not dead? That I lied?"

"No, Thane," Master replied. "Stern is dead. I am simply stating that the path does not end at Stern's death. Ending the deed does not end the path, Thane. It never has and it never will. You must remember that the actions you have taken have set other things in motion. You must always keep this in mind and it must be one of the guiding forces of action. Consequence, Thane. Consequence. You must not change one thing, one pebble, one grain of sand, until you know what good and evil will follow on that act. The universe must be in balance, in Equilibrium. Actions shift this balance further or closer. We must make it closer. We must make the right actions. A wizard's power of Changing and Summoning shakes the balance of the universe. It is dangerous, that power. It is most perilous. It must follow knowledge, and serve need. To light a candle is to cast a shadow.

"Every action you make, Thane – every need that is satisfied, every duty you perform – follows the laws of cause and effect. You have lit the candle, Thane. You have now cast a shadow. The size of the shadow, however, has yet to be determined. One would hope it is small. But the shadow is there nonetheless. It can take the form of anything: conflict – internal, through emotion, or external, through violence – or maybe, in this case, another arms dealer or group taking Stern's place. Maybe all of the above.

"We have led you to the path, Thane. But I think you know that the path you are on will not end – not until your death. It will diverge every now and then while you walk on it; it will split into different possible paths so a choice must be made of which one to take; and when you do die, Thane, when you pass from this world onto the next, the path will available for anyone else who wishes to walk down it.

"Do you see, Thane, that it comes down to the fact that the future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creating? The paths are not to be found, but made, and the activity of making them, changes both the maker and the destination. In killing Stern you have taken your first steps on your path. But it will not end. The destination of a balanced universe will not be reached in your lifetime or mine. But when the day comes when the Equilibrium is reached, then a new destination will be made, and new paths shall be forged."

Thane sat enthralled while Master spoke, engrossed in the meaning of what he was saying. Thane's path had only just begun. Stern's death was but one step; but even then the ground in which he had walked would have shifted. Like a shockwave erupting from a destination, it will nonetheless affect other areas, even though it was not initiated in those areas and even though it might have not wanted to affect those areas. Thane knew that he had set off a chain reaction. He had always known that his killing of Stern would affect at least someone, and that this would set off more reactions. What he had not anticipated – not thought of – was just how far the reaction would spread. Furthermore, Thane had not considered the fact that the 'path' he had started would not end, but change. He knew this now. It saddened him, in a way. On the ship he had not known why his emotions had lost control. He knew the cause, and only had a rough idea of the why. But as it turned out, the idea was nowhere close.

Thane sat there, in complete silence, now thinking of his emotions on the dropship. He had killed Stern. His emotional outburst had something to do with it. He had thought that it was Stern's words. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was the fact that he had unconsciously made the connection that what he had done had set off every further emotion, action and encounter from now on; that he had just signed for every bit of sadness, loss and heartbreak he would receive for the rest of his life. It never seemed so blatantly obvious to Thane now. Every word Master had ever spoken to Thane about the consequences of actions he had understood, but now Thane realised the true extent the consequences of his actions. It had just taken until the act of killing Stern to realise it. Thane recalled a phrase Master had uttered once: _The obscure we see eventually. The completely obvious, it seems, takes longer_. Never had Thane truly reconciled with the meaning.

Thane and Master sat there in silence while Master's final words resonated around the room, and inside Thane. The cheers of the crowd below, while still strong, was beginning to fade as the light did – as the sun over Kahje was setting. The room, however, was still illuminated strongly due to the height and the starlight being able to penetrate the windows because of it. Thane, who had once more begun to look out the window to the setting sun and the magnificent scene of it happening, turned once more to face Master. Once he did, Master spoke once more. "I would like to hear of your first steps, Thane."

Thane took a deep breath and, speaking steadily, began. "Tiberius Stern was killed at approximately nine twenty-seven three days ago on Illium from a single gunshot wound to the head. The path to Stern, however, was not easy, as I had expected."


	14. Act II: Ch 7: Answers

**Chapter 7: Answers**

* * *

><p>The Amethyst Maelstrom was a wicked and deceitful creature. An electron storm in deep space, which draped itself in the garb of a harmless hydrogen gas cloud, often lured unwary ships into its heart; ships that would never see the tranquil black liquid of space again. But this was not some act of violence on part of the Maelstrom; on the contrary, any ship with sufficient tech on board could navigate the storm at the expense of shields and weapons. But it was this afforded handicap which was preyed upon by the mass of Blue Suns' ships which concealed themselves behind the impenetrable walls of Amethyst. This was the staging ground for one of the Blue Suns infiltration and conquest battle groups, the Fleet of Capto Devitiae.<p>

And it was this fleet to which Sergeant Zera was now speeding towards. The small docking vessel was not a pretty sight, used mostly for smuggling cargo between Blue Suns ships. The hold was so exceedingly cramped with crates and boxes of the organisation's economy - guns, ammunition, food, credits and luxury items – that there was barely enough space to sit down. Zera was wedged slightly against the far window of the vessel, looking irritably out at the dozens of ships which comprised the largest Blue Suns armada in this sector.

He had been recalled from the _Opportunist_ shortly after the stabilisation efforts had begun on Illium, and could only guess as to why this had been. Whichever angle Zera viewed it from, he only saw the cold, unforgiving seal on an airlock door, or the barrel of an executioner's gun. His actions on Illuim had finally caught up to him. _But what fucking actions? _Zera thought to himself angrily. _I only did what I was ordered to, I only did my fucking job! So why the hell am I being shipped to CapDev as if I somehow sabotaged the mission I was sent to clean up after?_

The lack of information as to his transfer was deeply unsettling to him. Zera was a man who hated being in the dark. Ever since a young age he yearned for answers, like many other children did. But unlike many others, when those answers failed to present themselves, he became righteously hostile and blamed anyone he could. Living the life of a poor farming community on Horizon meant that he was stuck at the bottom of a very long ladder. A ladder which placed the Alliance on top, Alliance operatives' second, Alliance sympathisers third and farmers last - just slightly above the worms in the ground. Answers in that life were as rare as people of worth, of which there were none. He had almost jumped at the chance to join the Blue Suns, seeing it as an opportunity to be the one behind the scenes for a change, knowing what only a select few did, always having the answers that others wanted. When he realised that the Blue Suns implemented the same hierarchical structure as the Alliance, it had struck Zera hard. Since then he had been hell-bent on creating a name for himself within the organisation; rising through the ranks to become someone who didn't need _permission_ or _allowance_ to do things. _He_ would be the one creating the answers he had always craved.

The docking vessel sped up slightly, weaving between the large hulls of the ships in the fleet, passing the various frigates and recon ships which the Blue Suns used primarily for infiltration and espionage. There was a substantial presence of authority here, but Zera knew better than to swell with pride. Despite its size, the fleet only had a handful of ships which could go toe-to-toe with Alliance or Turian battleships; and the truth was it didn't need such ships in great number. The Blue Suns greatest ally was its anonymity; becoming openly involved with conflicts and corporations, and drawing the attention of rival groups was the last thing the organisation needed. Secrecy and shadows were their greatest ally.

The large guns of the fleet's destroyers caught his eye, all of which sat on the edge of the fleet ready to intercept any unauthorized visitors; and two carriers housed the fleet's formidable Air Defence Force. But the ship which Zera was headed to was the largest ship in the fleet: the flagship Cruiser _Sedition_.

This was where Zera had to scoff at the organisations audacity. For a group which prided itself on inconspicuousness, the sight before him seemed anything but. _Sedition_ was huge. Twice the size of a destroyer, cruisers in the Alliance fleet were the heavy hitters in any battle. With enough guns and armament to take on a small armada, it was a wonder the Blue Suns had managed to scrounge up the money and materials to resurrect this beast from death. Historically, this very cruiser had been very nearly destroyed by the Geth years prior. The corporation which handled the recycling and disposal of destroyed warships had ties to the Blue Suns, and had subsequently dismantled the remains of the vessel and quietly shipped them off one by one, many months apart, to a Blue Suns facility. There, the ship had been painstakingly reassembled, along with many additional elements which set the _Sedition_ apart from other cruisers.

As the massive ship filled his view, Zera saw the numerous docking bays along her side, one of which was theirs. All around, similar ships went about their duties, transporting armaments and supplies to and from the flagship. This was clearly the centrepiece in a large network which operated throughout this sector of the galaxy. He could hear the muted docking alarm as the vessel approached the shield door which protected the atmosphere inside the bay from the cold vacuum of space outside. The ship slowed dramatically, finally coming to a rest with a solid _thump_ on the steel plates of the docking bay. Zera stood as straight as he could with the crates surrounding him, and waited for the pilot to lower the ramp.

The hydraulics whined and grudgingly let the steel ramp descend, bathing the ships interior with the white and blue flood lights used in the docking bay. Zera squinted, his eyes adjusting from the darkness he had been sitting in for the past few hours, and made his way down the ramp. A group of workers shoved past him, clearly focused on offloading the cargo before the vessel made its next run. They didn't even acknowledge him as he walked by, and Zera scowled as he looked back at them. _Fucking dockworkers_, he thought privately. Coming to the flagship presented a whole new host of ordeals for Zera, most prevalent of which was the general indifference to anyone from another ship in the fleet. Zera, though a well-known operative on the _Opportunist_, was as insignificant as the next man to walk by; and this annoyed him no-end. Anyone coming to the _Sedition_ essentially had been demoted in all but name and title. The atmosphere and attitude towards newcomers like Zera was filled with contempt and deliberate segregation. _You basically feel like you're as welcome as a Salarian scientist on Tuchanka_, one of Zera's fellow officers on the _Opportunist_ had put it.

The corridors to CIC were thick with traffic, and he found himself constantly delayed by groups of engineers or workers hauling cargo from here to there. _Sedition_ was not only the military hub of Capto Devitiae, but also the hub of trade and commerce. Although the word 'commerce' was slightly too formal for the system of bartering and extortion which the Blue Suns practiced. Heavy personnel traffic on-board was commonplace, and regular crewmen and women paid it no regard; Zera, on the other hand, found it persistently irritating. He turned another corner, having memorised the route to CIC on his flight in, and was halted by an armed guard.

"Hold on, nobody past this point until the couplings are replaced. Engineers are on it. Should be done soon," he said brusquely.

Zera looked over the guard's shoulder. Indeed, there were a group of men wearing coveralls yanking old cables and power cells out of the wall. Standard practice on a ship this size, which needed constant supervision on its power consumption.

He nodded, his irritation almost forming into words of abuse towards the guard; but he held his composure. Arguing wouldn't get him anywhere, and he knew no other way to CIC. He would have to wait.

Considering the less than ideal conditions and treatment of this trip, Zera was less than concerned about being late. Leaning against the wall, he went over the details of this 'summoning' by Blue Suns leadership. He had no idea who issued the order, and even less an idea of what it involved, save the most obvious topic of his actions on Illium. Command structure in the Blue Suns was need-to-know in almost every way, and taking into account the work that the Blue Suns undertook, it was not only desirable to keep the majority of pawns in the dark, it was also smart.

What didn't sit well with Zera was the idea of being one of those pawns. More than that, the notion that he was just one other nameless drone to be shipped from here to there - to wherever they wanted like a piece on a chessboard - countered every fibre of his being. Zera was a self-made man, not content with scraps or leftovers and not one for _asking_ at all. But he still cautioned himself from being too vocal about his opinions; after all, an openly disillusioned NCO was not command material, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the dregs of the Blue Suns the rest of his life. _Passion must give way to prudence_, he recited in his mind, and not for the first time. He still remembered his naivety at a younger age, on the cusp of leaving the chains of Horizon behind and venturing out to the stars. But those stars no longer filled him with wonder or curiosity; no, he had matured since then. He had learned to let his prudence take hold and now, when he looked at the stars, all he saw was himself. Himself at the head of a Blue Suns fleet, making the life that had always been out of reach. Oh, he would make that life; no longer would it slip between his fingers. He would grip it tightly and never let go.

"Hey! Did you hear me or not, asshole?"

Zera snapped out of his thoughts with a slight start. The guard was staring impatiently at him, motioning for him to proceed. The engineers were seated to one side, sharing a meal now that their task was complete.

"Either get moving or I'll introduce your face to my rifle, idiot," the guard snapped. "You're blocking up the corridor."

He considered taking up the guards offer, knowing he could probably take him in a fight, but he was also eager to get this over and done with. He nodded and promptly strode past the guard, not giving him a second look. Fights in the fleet were common, and not much was done to prevent them. On the contrary, just like in Turian fleets, they were seen as an efficient way to resolve grudges and let off steam, as long as there were no fatalities. Zera was well aware of these 'traditions' in fleets such as this, but he considered such routes to the top as beneath him. He would use his natural ability as an operative to get ahead.

Continuing on his way, the crowd only seemed to grow thicker as he neared the CIC, now interspersed with higher ranking fleet officers, all of whom were dressed in formal fleet attire, their hands clasped behind their backs as they walked. One couldn't help but wonder just how dissimilar the Blue Suns actually were from their Alliance or Citadel counterparts when surrounded by individuals of all species dressed in such a standardised way. It was a testament to the influence and efficiency of the organisation's leadership that such a variety and multitude of followers could be regulated so well.

Of course, Zera didn't consider himself one who had been 'regulated' like these fools. Sure, he had his superiors like everyone else, but he never endeavoured to stand out simply to please someone else. Many of the shameless rabble around him would progress in rank simply because they had shown a talent for boot-licking, and had no ambition _but_ to continue boot-licking until they died. Many others had a misplaced desire to see the fleet rise in influence and eventually come out of the shadows to dominate the galaxy. Zera liked to refer to them as the 'Atlas Corp', scoffing at their vainglorious desires for solidarity, teamwork and unity for the good of the fleet. They would spend their whole lives struggling to hold up the pillars they themselves erected, unable to rise without falling under the weight of their own hubris.

Zera approached large plexiglass doors emblazoned with the gauntleted fist and star insignia for the fleet, which emitted a pleasant blue glow as they slid apart to welcome him to the Combat Information Centre. Pausing just past the doorway, Zera surveyed the large environment carefully.

CIC was a mass of multi-tiered levels accommodating terminals for every system on-board, no matter how trivial. At every view screen sat an operative, regulating tasks, checking rosters, cross-checking security codes and otherwise managing the five thousand strong crew of the _Sedition_. The room was a hive of activity, conversation and toil to keep not only the flagship running effectively, but also the entire fleet. Officers brushed past him again, barely looking up for their clipboards and omni-tools as they went about their duties. Looking to his left, Zera saw an operative guiding the trajectories of ten cargo ships trailing the edge of the electron storm, making sure they remained within the safe zone of Amethyst, or the 'Oasis', as the personnel called it. It was a dangerous proposition for an entire fleet to conceal itself within an electron storm, but the benefits were invaluable to an organisation which thrived on anonymity. Fortunately for the Blue Suns, the severity of Amethyst petered off as one approached the epicentre of its mass, rather like an eye in a storm. Unless a ship was able to make the precise calculations and jump _directly_ into the centre of the fleet, they would lose all weapons and navigational controls, making them easy prey for the fleet's Destroyers. Furthermore, if they actually _did_ manage to jump safely, they would emerge from the jump surrounded by dozens of hostile ships with nowhere to manoeuvre. The fight would be brief.

It was this key advantage which made Capto Devitiae one of the most profitable and efficient Blue Suns outposts in the galaxy. With this in mind, it also made advancement in this fleet something to be desired; not because the people were of any intrinsic value, but because distinction in this fleet meant a real chance of _commanding_ this fleet. The hostility towards outsiders, even other Blue Suns operatives, made the promotion of officers from other sectors problematic, to say the least. The fleet always preferred to promote its own people to positions of power, and shun candidates who were not considered one of their own. Granted, at this point Zera was no 'Hero of the People' as it were, but he knew that to prove himself to the Commanders of the fleet would give him the opportunity to climb another ladder; to climb the ladder that he could never climb on Horizon, and emerge on top where he belonged.

Smiling to himself, Zera suddenly felt less irritated at this abrupt summoning, and saw what potentially could be one of his greatest opportunities.

Looking directly ahead, Zera could now see the command table. It was essentially a large, circular holographic projector which displayed the space immediately around the fleet. Markers showed the exact positions of every ship in CapDev, their names, trajectories, cargo, munitions and the names of their commanding officers. It was from here that Alliance commanders would traditionally dictate the movements and operations of the fleet during combat; but under Blue Suns management, it was used primarily for convenience, and to keep a close eye on every part of the fleet. Standing at the table were the command staff: Commander Hayden Estes, Rear Admiral Zachariah Pickett and Admiral Jonathan Graves.

Though, to be realistic, the distinction of these men as 'Commanders' or 'Admirals' was quite unwarranted in the traditional sense. Capto Devitiae was not part of a formal navy; it was simply an armada of vessels controlled by one organisation. The idea of giving such ranks to these men in this context was akin to calling a father or husband of a family the 'King' of that family. CapDev was a meritocracy above all, albeit a selective and biased one, and men like Graves, Pickett and Estes had no doubt risen to this position through merit. However, Zera had little doubt that the self-administered distinction of them as Fleet Commanders was as fleeting as your position in the Blue Suns itself: it could change on a dime. As such, while Zera was obliged to show respect and subservience, he put little stock in the rank he was observing.

Zera approached the table, nimbly dodging other bridge staff as they hurried about their own duties. Despite the mystique of his 'summoning', he couldn't help but feel a perverse sense of excitement, mostly due to the possibilities of advancement if he could distinguish himself in the next few minutes. He reached the far end of the table, and stood with hands clasped behind his back, chin raised and heels together - the age-old stance of attention to superior officers in the Alliance navy. Commander Estes looked up from what he was doing and saluted, which Zera returned in kind. Rear Admiral Pickett did the same. Graves, on the other hand, did not look up from the table. He did, however, speak first.

"How was your coffee, Sergeant?"

Zera blinked, confused at this rather equivocal question. "My… my coffee, sir?"

Graves, still, did not look up. Instead, he continued to speak. "Records show you arriving on board twenty minutes ago. It takes twelve minutes to walk from the hangar bay to the bridge. I would like to think you stopped for a coffee on the way, rather than imagine a soldier like yourself finding it unnecessary to arrive to where he was summoned in good time."

Zera's temper rose, and he bit back a harsh retort. Here again was a classic example of elitist behaviour when it came to people from outside the fleet. Zera had never been on the ship before, and yet they expected him to be familiar with every aspect of its operation, from maintenance to scheduling. He knew this hostility was expected, but it still annoyed him intensely. However, as much as he considered the superiority complex shared by all the pig-headed officers in CapDev childish and pathetic, he knew better than to rise to this taunt; it would serve neither himself nor his ambitions.

"I apologise, Admiral," he said flatly. "I ran into maintenance crews on the way which held me up for a few minutes. Had I known I would have arrived earlier."

Graves did not respond. Pickett, however, did.

"Give the man a break, Jon. Knowing your way around the Sedition has nothing to do with what we have in store for him."

Zera nodded towards Pickett. Here, at least was someone concerned with what actually mattered.

Graves finally looked up, his cold grey eyes surveyed Zera in full battle dress, no doubt scanning for some other imperfection to draw attention to. Failing that, he finally chose to address Zera directly.

"You were in charge of the Recon-Recovery team that began our clean-up operation on Illium, correct?"

Zera's pulse quickened. He readied himself for the barrage of blame.

"Yes, sir."

"So your team found the remains of the kill squad we sent and also Commander Gannicus."

Maybe it was simple paranoia, but he was fully expecting guards to rush in at this point and gun him down. "Is… that a question, sir?" Zera asked.

Graves' eyes narrowed. "You are aware that your failure to arrive sooner has almost completely eliminated any chance we have of rectifying this situation properly? Our operatives are off-limits to law enforcement, freelancers, the Alliance, anyone short of a fucking Council Spectre has no business getting in the way of a Blue Suns operative. So whoever did was given all of several hours to cover their tracks and leave us with nothing besides a 'Screw You' note and a hell of a mess to clean up."

Here it was at last, exactly what Zera had been expecting. Despite the protocols of command, and ignoring the fact that he was surrounded by security, Zera felt that he could not simply stand there and allow his reputation to suffer such indignity. _I'll be damned if this stuck up asshole is going to disrespect me, and then dismiss everything I've done for this organisation._ Zera knew that now was the time to stand up and be counted as someone who wouldn't lie down and die on command.

"With all due respect to you and Commander Gannicus, if he hadn't allowed himself and his team to become compromised, then there would be no clean-up required, no _heroic_ leader to rescue and no retribution for me to ruin so spectacularly; for someone who has been touted as such a faultless operative, Gannicus hardly displayed such ability judging by what I saw when I arrived to sort out _his_ mess. All I'm saying, sir, is that if there's a spot picked out for me on the firing squad, I'd have to say there should be room for one more."

Graves' expression was unreadable, but Pickett had a noticeably admiring smile on his face. Estes too, looked surprised, but also impressed by Zera's audacity. He held his breath, and felt sweat beading on his forehead. He had said what needed to be said, now his fate was squarely in the hands of Graves, someone who clearly did not like him.

After almost a full minute of silence, Graves finally responded.

"It's not every day we get an officer openly criticising Commander Gannicus; you know, he's saved more Blue Suns lives than you've seen so far on board this ship. Most people seem to be falling over themselves to polish his boots or unbutton his pants, depending on what their preference is."

There was a pause, but Zera did not see any point in interrupting. Strangely, despite his awareness of Gannicus' accolades, Graves seemed to be speaking of him in the same tone that Zera did.

"While I value what Gannicus does for us, that doesn't mean I have to like him. There's too many over-confident, ambitious and ass-kissing officers in this fleet hoping for promotion that I sometimes feel like transferring them to the Alliance. This is _not_ the goddamn Alliance. They may serve 'humanity', but the Blue Suns serve what serves us: Profit. Perks. The benefits.

"While your little speech was reason enough for me to put you on that firing squad you requested, I get the impression that you're less concerned about Gannicus and more concerned about getting something done besides stroking his ego. Think of this visit as an 'audition' of sorts, and consider yourself lucky you got the job."

Zera released the breath he had been holding. What were the odds that Graves also held contempt for Gannicus? He had little doubt that the severely limited common ground they shared had saved Zera from blindfolds, bullets and airlock doors.

"What's the job, sir?" he inquired, slightly more at ease now.

Graves touched the controls in front of him, and the holo-table spewed out a map of Illium, showing all the details of Blue Suns activity planet-wide. Examining it, Zera saw the tag of his own unit still in place conducting the takeover of Stern's corporate holdings. More prominent however, was the information being pulled up on the street where he had found Gannicus. Information spilled forth, too fast for him to read. Before he could make sense of it, Graves spoke again.

"I care about results, Sergeant," he stated. "I don't care who gets it or how they do it, all that matters to me is results. This incident with Commander Gannicus has severely affected the efficiency of our operations on Illium. Regardless of who is to blame, this clean-up has cost us valuable time; time which has allowed those still loyal to Stern to lock us out of certain facets of his empire. Soon, we will need to resort to force; it will cost us lives, and more importantly, it will cause damage to an infrastructure we will then have to repair. Not to mention, it will stretch the agreement we have made to the organisation on Omega past its expiry, meaning we will have to re-negotiate terms, which will cost us even more resources.

"The point is, to get results, we need the right people. You have first-hand knowledge of the investigation into who or what disrupted our operation. You also have experience following leads, and most importantly, you seem to care more about results than you do about making a good impression. I may not like you at all, but like I said, I care more about results than I do about some nameless Sergeant from the Opportunist. So, as long as you can deliver me results, we have no problem."

Zera nodded. Despite Graves' complete misreading of his true ambitions, he was content to let things go unsaid for now.

"Good," Graves said in a manner befitting someone acknowledging the ending of a long and tedious discussion. "Now, what we need from you is something you do all the time: A clean-up. However, instead of clearing bodies, paying off police or forcing civvies to look the other way, this task will simply be tying off loose ends. You will have all information made available to you, you will have all resources made available to you, and you may operate in any way you see fit, as long as it doesn't come into conflict with something which I will address in a moment.

"Using what we have provided, and whatever else you can come up with, track down whoever or whatever stood in our way, and make sure they can _never_ cause problems for us again. I want everything to do with them destroyed, deleted, incinerated, eliminated and wiped off the face of the galaxy. Nobody will know they existed at all. Understood?"

Zera could hardly believe what he was hearing. From being on the verge of a firing squad to having the entire might of the Blue Suns at his fingertips? _This has to be a joke, surely_, he thought to himself. Nonetheless, despite his elitist behaviour and obvious contempt for the people around him, Graves looked like a man who didn't mince words. He said what he needed to say and didn't mess around. Maybe, just maybe, he was being serious.

"Sir, I have to say, I'm surprised that 5 minutes after you accused me of jeopardizing our entire operation on Illium, you give me all the resources I can carry and leave me to do whatever I want?"

For the first time since Zera had entered the room, Graves actually smiled. But there was nothing friendly about it; Graves knew exactly what he was doing, and Zera's happiness was nowhere on his list of priorities.

"Results, Sergeant," he said simply. "Results trump reasons. You cleaned up the mess on Illium effectively, you brought the Commander back, and you had the balls to look an Admiral in the eye and tell him you won't go down easy. Things like this produce results, which is exactly what I'm after. Give me results, Sergeant. That's all I need."

Now it was Zera's turn to smile. "If it's results you want, sir, that's something I can provide. Just give me what I need, I'll give you the heads of those who stood in the way of the Blue Suns."

Graves nodded approvingly. "Excellent. I'm glad to hear that you're one-hundred percent committed to this mission, Sergeant. But there's one last thing I haven't addressed yet. You're going to be one half of a two-man team, as I don't trust missions as important as this to just one man. You may have free reign on how and where to use the resources we give you, but you're going to make decisions as a team. Despite the discrepancy in rank, both of you will have equal say as to how you will conduct your investigation. This may not sit well with you, but as you are aware, I don't care how the two of you 'feel' about this. You will work as a team and you will complete this damn mission otherwise the both of you may find yourselves tied to the same post. Do I make myself clear Sergeant?"

Despite his confusion, Zera knew it was best to accede to the Admiral's conditions. The last thing he needed was for insignificant particulars of the mission to put at risk this unprecedented opportunity he was being presented with. As Graves himself had put it, the Blue Suns serve what serves them, and that was exactly how Zera thought. He served only what served him; not the Blue Suns, but profit. Perks. The _benefits_.

"Yes, Admiral. Perfectly clear," he responded. "I just have one last question. Who am I working with on this mission?"

Graves cocked his head quizzically, as if surprised. "I would have thought the answer to that was obvious, Sergeant."

He paused, waiting to see if Zera would manage to guess the identity of some random operative he knew nothing about. When Zera said nothing, he continued.

"The man who likes results almost as much as me. The man you saved on Illium, and the same man who just recently survived surgery on the Opportunist."

Zera's eyes darted away from the Admiral as he realised _exactly_ whom he would be teamed with.

With the final, decisive words of Admiral Jonathan Graves of the _Sedition_, spoke the order Zera hoped never to hear again: "You'll be working with Commander Gannicus."


	15. Act II: Ch 8: All Roads

**Chapter 8: All Roads...**

* * *

><p>The sky had dimmed and the room was now lit with automatic fluorescent lights, giving a delicate aura to the room Thane and Master now inhabited silently. There were no noises outside the room; the festivities had halted for now. There were no noises inside the room either, except the rustling of wind flowing past the window and occasionally penetrating the study with a soft whistle. Thane sat quite still in his chair, well aware that his turn to talk had ended. It was now Master's turn, but no hint at any communication erupting from him was present. Thane did not know what to do, or even what to think. He and his peers had long since become used to Master contemplating something in complete silence, sometimes having prolonged periods of uninterrupted thought for over an hour, before Master would 'come back to reality', completely unaware that even any time had passed at all. This would result in surprise from Master as Thane's fellow classmates – though still in the room – would be playing videogames on the terminals and other forms of procrastination.<p>

While some students actually found this amusing and the procrastination very welcome, Thane had never shared this view; he would always be alertly sitting at the table, waiting for Master to resume the lesson. He had never blamed or had any resentment for Master because of his random 'tune-outs'; he understood that some hanar did this – as great minds often unknowingly drift into great contemplation. No, the only resentment Thane felt was towards his classmates, as he believed they had been given a great opportunity and were squandering it with their disrespectful actions. He would turn from his desk in dismay and look at his fellow race, thinking what a waste of time and what an impertinent way to act towards the people that saved his race from almost certain annihilation.

Thane had never seen Master as _just_ a mentor. To Thane, Master was so much more than a simple instructor: he was the embodiment of everything that was right in the universe; with everything that was seemingly wrong somehow wiped from existence when he was in Master's presence. Thane could look at Master and see everything that was so noble and empowering about the hanar. Master was a father to him in a way that his real father never was.

But he never saw Master being as an always-there-for-you kind of father, so much as a father who knew that being with you physically does not serve as great a purpose as teaching you the merits of life and ones place in it. While Master never said this, Thane always felt that Master could speak to you in so many ways without him ever needing to say a word. If Thane knew only one thing, it was that the words and wisdom Master passed onto you would never fade or be diminished, even after Master one day passing from this world onto the next.

Thane continued to sit there, waiting patiently - exactly as he did in class. He had spent the last 10 minutes explaining his actions on Illium, from his arrival at Ingrinza docking bay to the last breath of Tiberius Stern. Master had not said one word as Thane talked, which meant that Thane had done well at retelling the story, or had failed miserably, letting his insecurities reveal his deception. This was the debate that surged inside Thane at this very moment. Not one follow-up question had been asked by Master; not one inquiry, criticism or praise. As this was the first time Thane had recounted an assassination in front of Master, Thane was unsure of the protocols or procedures Master would be required to speak about, what Thane would have to say, or what Thane would have to do. _Does Master have to talk at all? _Thane asked himself.

This was why Thane had no clue as to what to think at this time. This meeting was alien to him, and brought along with it so many unknown criteria as to how to act and respond. Master's silence was not very helpful either. But what Thane was most concerned about was the _lie_. It was pivotal that Master not find out about Thane's mistake on Illium. Thane had skilfully avoided mentioning his slipup of letting Stern evade his sight, as well as the whole incident involving the Blue Suns. This would raise harsh debates about what to do if the Blue Suns found out who Thane was, who he worked for, and why he was on Illium in the first place. This, in turn, would lead to penalties and even voiding of the Compact, leading to expulsion from Kahje, and all Thane's hard work wasted. Thane couldn't have that. Thane _wouldn't_ have that.

"How did you feel afterwards?" came a voice.

Thane had been looking out the window when it hit him that someone was talking. He turned to look at the only other person in the room: Master, who continued to hover, facing him.

"How did I feel," Thane asked, just to make sure it was Master who had just spoken?

"Yes, Thane," Master's responded, his voice as benevolent as it ever was, "how did you feel after the departure of Mister Stern?"

"I-," Thane began, completely abashed by the question. "I didn't know what to feel, Master," he said, turning again to face the window. "I still don't."

He was convinced that Master's first questions would involve confirming the validity of his story. He had never expected that Master would speak of emotions first. To be honest, speaking of emotion had completely slipped Thane's mind. It was irrelevant to him. Or, at least, Thane believed Master would think it irrelevant.

"This is often the case, Thane," Master spoke. "Up until the final moments of the task, emotion is completely ignored. Only when the task is completed that one realises the impact that they receive emotionally. It is a laborious and painstaking conflict, Thane. A conflict that, when trying to mend, must be done lightly. People trying to ignore the conflict altogether, concealing it deep within themselves, find that it destroys them in the end. It was once put that if you try to tame the beast, it gets angry. I think that it is an excellent allegory."

Thane, looking out the window, still spotted some barely visible sunlight - although where the source of it was at this point he could not tell. Thane could not help but think that even though Kahje's sun was almost gone, he knew that it would rise the next morning. _Will my actions rise once more?_ Thane wondered. _Like the sun, whose reappearance is certain, will my actions come to light?_

Thane could hardly see Master from the corner of his eye, but nonetheless knew that Master was staring at him. Thane knew Master could see the internal conflict that raged within him at this very moment, and did not know what to do about this. Master could always tell if something is wrong, and Thane was taught better than to lie in the face of truth. _Lying is for cowards,_ Thane once heard Master say. _Lying is for those too afraid to let their heart and voice be one. To have them beat together, to have them speak together, is all the more powerful as one knows it is a pathway to achieve pure Wholesomeness. If one does not wish to have this, then one has something to hide. If one has something to hide, then one knows that their hubris is too powerful to control. This will lead to evasion, desperation, and, eventually, destruction. If one has the desire to self-destruct, they are a coward. Cowards lie._

Thane closed his eyes carefully. _I am not a coward_, he said to himself.

"How does one deal with this conflict?" Thane asked, his voice rather jaded, asking the only real question that could come to mind.

"Deal?" Master replied, simply. "One does not simply _deal_ with a conflict, Thane. If I could answer that question, I would. But every person is different. To ask me how to deal with an emotion would be to ask me how fire moves in a given situation, or how to build a bench. Asking me how fire moves would result in me asking you what the conditions and circumstances the fire is in. Asking me how to build a bench would result in me asking you what you are looking when you say 'bench'.

"You are an individual, Thane. You have individual needs, desires, attitudes and responses. If wish to learn how to 'deal', we must start where your deepest concerns lie. There were none before leaving for Illium, and many after arriving home. One would reasonably assume that your mission has affected you in a way that neither of us expected. So, let's start at Stern's departure. How did you feel afterwards?"

Thane opened his eyes and centred them firmly on Master. He knew that everything he felt now was a consequence of Illium. But he also knew that he could not possibly form into words the emotions flowing through him at this moment.

"I feel…" Thane began slowly; trying to form the words carefully as to be truthful, but not indicative of his negation of facts he gave earlier. "I feel broken," he whispered.

It was the truth. He did feel broken. He felt as if the weight of everything that had happened to him over the past few months had compiled into a dense mass which was slowly eating at his wish to be Whole.

"I feel as if Stern is inside me at this very moment, hacking at my bones," Thane continued. "It is agony, Master. Agony. The weight of an entire life is resting on my chest."

Master moved forward and pushed the glass of water on the bench closer to Thane. "It is not common for people to feel this, Thane, I must admit. But neither is it rare. But I must ask myself why you are feeling this way. You knew of the atrocities Stern made and what evil acts he committed, so it begs the question of why you carry such a powerful sense of guilt with you. I am thinking that it is not wholly because of Stern's death that you feel this – but, rather, something more pressing."

Thane gazed at the drink Master had passed him intently. _He's catching on_, Thane said to himself, his heart rate rising.

"Alas," Master digressed casually, "I cannot be sure. I am also not in the state to ask at this time. What I will say, Thane, is that when it comes to the duties we ask of you, these feelings you have must be purged; for soon it will turn to chaos."

Thane picked up the glass and raised it slowly to his lips. Feeling the smooth liquid flowing down his throat, he grasped how naïve he had been to ever think that there would be no consequences of his actions, but also felt a sense of relief at Master's deviation of topic.

"Chaos needs no allies, Thane, for it dwells like a poison in every one of us," Master spoke softly. "If we are not prepared and let our guard down for even a fraction of a second, it will engulf us.

"I ask too much of you, Thane. I ask too much of you all. While we can spout the merits of superlative manner and unwavering conviction to our students, we also realise that others cannot fully abide by our rules, no matter how hard they try.

"One can promise actions, but not feelings, Thane, for the latter are involuntary. He who promises to love forever or hate forever or be forever faithful to someone is promising something that is not in his power."

Thane let the last drop of water fall from the glass and down his throat, before pulling it from his lips and placing it back on the table.

"You are stronger than Stern, in more ways than you can imagine." Master said decisively.

Resting his arms on his lap once again, Thane looked up at Master. "How do you know? You didn't know Stern."

"But I know the conviction that drives you," Master responded, "the rage you feel at failure, and the disappointment you feel about your race not having been able to even exist without help from another race. I know the resolute values you carry with you that help recognise your flaws and that assist you to overcome them. I know the internal conflict of unestablished identity you have and the search you are making to help you find what it is. I know you, Thane. And although I only have a measure of Stern from what I have read on a terminal, at the end of the day, because of the paths that you have taken, you are alive right now, and because of the paths Stern had taken, he is now dead."

Thane understood every word Master just spoke. But what scared him was the meaning placed behind them. Although it was subtle, Thane realised that Master was not just talking to him. In some unknown way, Master was talking to himself, as if he was reminding himself of a lesson – some piece of self-realised knowledge.

"Master… is there something you are not telling me?" he asked, leaning forward.

Master stood still for a moment before turning to face the window. This was the first time Thane has seen Master withdraw from a conversation in a long time for something other than contemplation, but he knew better than to try and pull Master back in. Thane knew instantly that Master was feeling regret – that Master was recalling something personal.

It was not for a few minutes of uninterrupted silence that Master finally spoke, softly, almost lamentingly. "I was not always a mentor," Master uttered tenderly. "I once had a Soul mate. My great love … who was taken from me. Like you did on Illium, Thane, I was forced to learn that there are those without decency - who must be fought without decency and without pity. I learnt that my actions had forced into motion a road that I would be unable to break from – and that that road would inevitably lead to the loss I so strongly feared."

Thane's mouth opened slightly as he heard the words coming from Master. Not once had Thane even anticipated Master having anyone personal in his life. Thinking back on this, he recognised the pure idiocy of his assumption.

"Your emotions give you great power, Thane. But your emotions will also destroy you without mercy - as it almost did me."

"What stopped it?" Thane asked, softly.

"Permanence, Thane. The continuity of life."

There was a brief pause as Thane leaned back on his seat.

"I found that there was more to do in life than wallow in self-pity. Like many of my fellow brethren, I felt that there was a way to help fix this universe: knowledge, and the transference of it to everyone willing to open themselves to it. It is because of you and your classmates that I didn't destroy myself. I was shown a path to which I followed absolutely, and that I will continue to follow until my passing."

Thane did not know what to say. No, that was not true. Rather, Thane felt that he shouldn't say anything. He knew to a certainty that Master had never divulged this information to another student. _Why me?_ Thane wondered. _Does he know something? Is this his way of coaxing out something from me? There has to be a purpose to this._

"Thane, I wish to be with my own thoughts at the moment," Master said slowly. "I thank you for your time and your discussion. We will reconvene later in the week to discuss the rest. Surely you wish to be alone also. You have done great work, but I know you are drained. You need rest, Thane. Good night, and may the Gods be watching."

Thane, quite taken aback at this abrupt ending, stood up slowly, bowed, and proceeded to exit the room. As he did, a great relief spread over him. But as it did, so did a great sadness. If Master had not brought up the topic of his life prior to mentoring, Thane would never had conceived he had one. It was most foolish to think Master was born into the role he now inhabited. It was foolish to assume Master had never made a mistake before.

Thane walked across the library, passing the tremendous amounts of books, feeling a sense of unwarranted trepidation. The discussion was over. _There was no need to worry, right?_

Thane walked up to the elevator, and it opened upon approach. He stepped inside, pressed the button to descend to the ground floor of the Tower of Quintessence, and closed his eyes as the carriage began to descend, swaying slightly.

Thane felt his body bending to the motion of the elevator. He loosened his firm stance and just let the elevator veer his body in the direction that it wanted. As he did, it became more and more apparent to him that this elevator ride was the first of many that would take place. He realised that after every mission and debrief he will be asked to do from this point on, no matter how successful it will be, the ride down will always be one of trepidation. That this deception he was carrying must stay with him forever, and must never be told.

As Thane continued to sway gently on the spot, he couldn't help but remember one line that Master spoke. _I learnt that my actions had forced into motion a road that I would be unable to break from – and that that road would inevitably lead to the loss I so strongly feared_.

Thane opened his eyes. It didn't hit him at the time, but what Master was saying was he made mistakes that cost people their lives. This, in turn, forced him into taking a different path he would never have considered before. _What if this happened to me?_ Thane wondered, a slight mix of fear and apprehension rising inside him. _What if this whole Blue Suns business came back to haunt me?_ For the first time, he heard of a mentor making a deadly mistake. The Blue Suns was Thane's mistake, but how far would this go?

There was a slight shift in force as the elevator decelerated as it reached the ground floor. _Well_, Thane said to himself, _will the Blue Suns get as far as finding out who I am? Unlikely. I am an assassin. But, this still is a mystery._

The elevator doors opened slowly to reveal the lobby of this Tower. It was empty of individuals, hanar and drell alike. The lights were on, and from the elevator Thane could see that the sun had fully set outside, with the street lamps now illuminating the outside world. Stepping out of the elevator, Thane made his way towards the doors. As he approached them, he could see, in the distance, the faint silhouette of Kahje's moon as the light penetrated the city's dome.

Called 'Wrathra' by the hanar, this moon was significant enough to have a name due to its almost flawless physique. With only a few exceptions, Wrathra's surface was almost completely flat and undamaged. There were only a dozen or so impact craters from the collision of comets and asteroids. Kahje was remote enough to have very few astronomical objects pass by it; and the lack of such objects meant an almost perfect, untouched moon - keeping its spherical shape since almost unblemished since its formation.

Looking up at it, Thane grasped the notion that even if an object had a few imperfect marks on it, in no way did that mean it could distract – or in any way deviate - from the sublime beauty and significance the object held. Thane realised that a few marks may be unwelcome, but in no way mean that it inhibits the thing from doing its job, and that this Blue Suns mess is also not beyond a means of control.

_This mystery can be dealt with in two ways_, Thane thought, with newfound resolve taking hold of him. _I can either uncover it, or eliminate it._

With that, Thane smiled, opened the Tower doors, and walking into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: He Who Brings The Night, coming soon...<strong>


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